The Dark Lord Rises
by Fresnofan
Summary: It's been 17 years since the battle of Hogwarts, but now Death Eaters have returned, intent on using the hallows to bring back the Dark Lord. What they didn't expect was with the return of Voldemort came certain victims as well. A "Harry's parents return" story, as they take on Voldemort together! Again! (Everything Book Cannon up to this point) H/G, J/L, Draco/Astoria, R/Hr
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Arrival

Lily woke suddenly, mind spinning, searching for anything other than the static that filled her head. She was on the floor, and it was cold. She turned slowly, and felt the hard floorboards beneath her, and the saw the sky above her. Where was she? In confusion, she sat up quickly, only to lay back down again clutching her aching head. She closed her eyes, and tried to think of the last thing she remembered.

 _James. And Harry! They were downstairs about to get ready for bed, when the alarm went off, alerting them of someone breaking the fidelius charm! It was Voldemort! She had run up the stairs, clutching Harry in her arms, trying to escape; but she had forgotten her wand downstairs, and now there was nowhere else to run. She tried to barricade herself in the nursery._

 _He had killed James, she was sure of it when the sound of a struggle ceased, ending with a thump as something heavy hit the floor. James was dead. Her husband, and best friend. And now that monster was coming for her child, and she couldn't let that happen!_

 _She whispered a last prayer, and spent her last moments comforting her son as she heard slow, deliberate footsteps climbing the stairs. There was nothing she could do but spend every last breath in defense of Harry._

Lily sat up again, slower this time. She remembered now. She remembered the uttered curse and the flash of green light. How was she not dead? And where was Harry?

She began looking around her again, realizing she was still in the nursery. The roof was blown off, and the room looked as if something had exploded. Her heart sank, and tears leapt to her eyes. _Harry was gone. She had failed. Harry was surely dead, and for some reason she had been left alive. But why?_

Suddenly a familiar voice was calling her name.

"Lily? Lily! Where are you? Harry! Are you alright?!" James frantic calls came closer and closer until she felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her to her feet.

"Lily! Lils, what happened? Are you hurt?"

Not looking at him, she shook her head. Tears continued to stream down her face, and she clutched James' arm like a life line. It took only moments for him to understand why her face held such sorrow, and that realization was followed by his own mirrored expression of dread. This too was followed by tears and cursing as James' sorrow turned to anger: anger at Voldemort, anger at whoever or however they were discovered, anger at Dumbledore for forcing them into this stupid plan of his, and his promises that they would be safe. And lastly, anger at his own weakness for allowing Voldemort to defeat him and kill his only son.

They sat there, staring at the empty crib holding each other for what seemed like hours, completely overcome.

Finally, Lily wiped her eyes, and spoke with a monotone voice; like one of resignation.

"We have to kill him. He has to die for what he's done."

"Believe me, he will. I'll kill him myself." James responded in that same tone, as if surrendering to their new fate of revenge. They sat in silence again, contemplating their decision. Then Lily spoke again.

"Where is the portkey?"

"It's downstairs. Do you think anyone knows what's happened yet?" James replied, beginning a labored rise to his feet, pulling Lily up with him.

"If they did, they would be here by now. I'm surprised Dumbledore isn't here already, actually. I thought he knew everything." There she paused, as if contemplating. "Apparently not." She paused again before continuing, "He was a fool. And we were fools to trust him."

Together, they left the nursery and made their way down the stairs to the living room. In their despair, the thick layer of dust went unnoticed, as did the missing photos, banister railings, and other knick-knacks that normally adorned the walls and furniture. After retrieving their respective wands, they found the phoenix feather that Dumbledore had given them in case of emergencies. Many members of the order had one, or something like it, which would allow them to immediately portkey to either Hogwarts, or if Hogwarts was no longer safe, to the Order Headquarters.

Mumbling the incantation, James and Lily Potter felt the familiar tug behind the naval, and were enveloped in blackness.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Return

Minerva McGonagal was making her way back to her office after dinner, chuckling to herself. James Sirius Potter was only 11 years old! In only his first year at Hogwarts, he had already proven to be quite the trouble-maker.

Suddenly, her pocket-watch began to burn, alerting her to someone else requesting entrance into Hogwarts. Looking at the watch, she recognized it as the front entrance. Assuming it was another parent here to visit their child, or another family member to visit the war memorial and Dumbledore's grave, she made her way there. From a ways off, she could see it was the Potters: Harry and Ginny that is. _I guess I won't have to send that owl after all. I can tell them in person that their son has blown up yet another toilet._

She flicked her wand, smiling as two of her favorite students began to cross the threshold.

But something was wrong. They were much too frantic, with tear-streaked faces and covered in filth.

"Professor McGonagall, where is Dumbledore! We must see him immediately!"

Alarm and confusion crossed her face.

"What do you mean what's happened to Dumbledore? You two very well know…" Suddenly, upon closer inspection, the elderly professor recognized her mistake and the people to whom she was speaking. Her eyes widened in alarm, and in a flash, he wand was pulled from her sleeve and her body set in dueling stance.

"Who are you? What kind of trick is this?" she demanded.

"What do you mean, who are we? You know us professor!" James almost shouted, raising is arms in surrender and moving to block Lily from harm.

"It's us, Lily and James! Why don't you recognize us?" Lily cried, trying to step out from behind her husband.

"Lily and James Potter have been dead for over 30 years. I will ask again who you are, and why you are here. If your answer does not suit me, I will stun you and have you arrested. If this is a cruel prank, it is completely inappropriate, and you will tell me the truth. Now, I ask once more, _who are you?"_ Minerva's mouth was set in a very thin line, her eyes filled with fury.

Lily tried once again to reason with her, completely bewildered.

"Minerva, I think you've been confunded. We aren't dead! We've only just been attacked by Voldemort, and Harry –" At this, Lily couldn't continue, and her eyes dropped to the ground, filling once more with tears.

"He's dead, Minerva. His nursery was in shambles, and he was nowhere to be found. That _monster killed him."_ At this, James too could not continue.

Minerva's fury seemed to dip slightly as she took in the grieving parents. But she did not fancy herself a fool, and though they seemed to be very convincing, she had also attended their funerals.

No magic could bring back the dead.

These imposters were very good actors, and their motive for using polyjuice potion or whatever enchantment for entering the school like this was completely lost on her. It was sick, really.

 _Perhaps, it was even being used as a diversion for some other sinister plot!_ The thought struck her suddenly, and without hesitation, she stunned them both with a swish of her wand and a mighty bellow. The school had not been attacked since the war, but as Mad-Eye always said, _Constant Vigilance!_ Both fell to the ground. Sending a patronus to Filius and Longbottom, she levitated their bodies and began making her way to the front doors, checking her watch for others trying to enter the school.


	3. Chapter 3: 36 hours earlier

Chapter 3: The Risen Followers

 **36 hours earlier**

Harry Potter sat down at his desk wearily. It had been a long night. As head of the auror department, he didn't usually have to do so much field work, but with these new developments with the group _The Risen Followers_ he was pulling some serious hours. In the last seventeen years, nearly every Death Eater had been captured and taken to trial. Very few, however, managed to escape Europe, most leaving for America or Australia. There had been no sightings for ten years, and Harry thought the whole business was done for good.

How wrong he was.

In the last few months, a new group had been forming, made up of former death eaters and radicals who believed in the ideals of Lord Voldemort. They called themselves _The Risen Followers,_ and though small, they were very dangerous. There had been a growing number or kidnappings, and tortures, and their ultimate goal remained unknown.

Harry had an uneasy feeling, like he should know what connected all of these people. Luna's father, Xenophilius Lovegood, had been taken, much to Harry's sorrow. It was unknown whether he was still alive.

He wasn't the only one. Men in masks identical to those worn by the death eaters so long ago had tried to abduct Luna as well. She had fought them off, of course, but her escape was narrow. Also, a woman who worked at the Daily Prophet, in the Muggle Protection office, as well as a women who worked as an unspeakable.

Harry remembered Xenophilius with mixed emotions. He thought back on his time on the run, when the information provided by Mr. Lovegood had ultimately been the information necessary to win the war, and allow Harry to come back from the dead.

Since Harry's defeat of Voldemort 17 years ago, Harry had not returned to the forest for the Resurrection Stone, nor had he returned for the wand. It continued to lay in the tomb of Albus Dumbledore, safe and sound. The cloak, he planned on giving to James this year, but until then it remained with him. It was James' first year at Hogwarts, and since Harry had received it as his first Christmas present at Hogwarts, he found it fitting that his eldest should have the same.

Harry shook his head irritably. The only ones who knew about the Hollows were Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. And Dumbledore of course. He had elected to not even tell the rest of the family. After the final battle, with Fred's death along with Remus, Tonks, and so many others, Harry feared the temptation for the resurrection stone was too great. He knew the terrible effect that stone could have, especially if the story of the Three Brothers was anything to go by.

With time, the loss of so many people had begun to become less sharp, and lessened to a gradual ache. He didn't think anyone would go looking for the stone now, should they discover its use, but he didn't want to make anyone, especially George or Teddy, have to make such a decision.

Harry still remembered the pull of the Mirror of Erised his first year, and the temptation it was to go back night after night. And his parents didn't even talk to him like they do with the stone!

No. It was better left a secret.

With that thought in mind, Harry was pulled from his thoughts as one of his aurors rushed in, sweating. "There's been another sighting, sir! At the Leaky Cauldron. The Longbottoms, sir!"

 _Oh no._ Harry charged out the door, wand out and ready to disapparate from the far end of the auror office, shouting as he went, "Ron! Jones! Smith! Creevey! Anderson! Cane! On me!" With a pop, Harry was gone, followed closely by six of his best aurors.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Captured

It was dark as the aurors prepared to enter the Leaky Cauldron. Harry peered through the window, thankful they were actually clean, unlike those at the Hog's Head. Neville and Hannah had been running the place for some years now after Tom's retirement, and Neville still spent the weekends and summers there when he wasn't teaching herbology at Hogwarts.

Harry could see them now, being held at wand point at the other end of the bar. There were seven men inside, all in cloaks and wearing masks. Two were on the floor, stunned apparently. Harry grinned, proud that Neville had taken some out before he became overwhelmed.

It was them alright. _The Risen Followers._ But what would they want with Neville?

It seemed Neville and Hannah had already been through at least a couple rounds of the cruciatus curse. They were strong, but Harry could see the strain on Neville as he watched his beloved wife being tortured; no doubt bringing up memories of what had happened to his parents.

"What did he do with the wand!?" demanded a rough voice, barely audible over the harsh pants of Harry's friends. "We know he has it; enough people admitted it by now. But you, being his little friends, ought to be able to tell me what he did with it! _"_ Hannah was grabbed harshly by the hair as the wand was pressed deeper into her neck. The man, obviously the leader continued, "If you don't tell me, she gets it again! And we won't be nearly as lenient this time!"

"I don't know! I don't know anything about a wand! All I know is what I've told you! Please, leave her alone, don't hurt her anymore! Hurt me instead!"

"SILENCE! If you don't know, then I guess you're of no more use to me."

Harry had heard enough. All stealth forgotten, he gave the signal to move in.

Darkness filled the room as Instant Darkness Powder was thrown inside, and coughing was heard coming from those in the bar. Performing the antijinx, Harry moved in, followed by Ron and Eleanor Jones on either side. Though still foggy, the antijinx made it possible to see through the darkness, allowing the aurors to stun the intruders quickly and efficiently. Soon, Harry was pulling Neville out into the street, with Eleanor holding on to Hannah.

Harry supported Neville as he threatened to collapse, coughing and spluttering. The rest of the Aurors soon followed, each levitating a criminal bound in thick ropes, and began preparing to transport them to Azkaban.

"Neville, are you ok? What happened?" Harry began asking Neville worriedly, watching as Neville's coughing subsided, leaving a very pale grimace in its wake. Neville clutched Hannah to him, and they both sank onto the curb, breathing heavy.

"Neville, I know you've been through Hell, but I need to know what they wanted from you. We may need to protect you." Harry asked again, more urgently this time. If Neville had something that these _Followers_ wanted, he would be damned if he let Neville or Hannah be hurt again because of it.

"They wanted _you_ Harry. They thought I knew something about a wand. Something you own, apparently. They were telling me about the final battle, and how you defeated Voldemort because your wand was more powerful than his or something. But that can't be true, is it? I mean, I remember you talking about your wand and his wand, but I don't remember the details. They seemed to think I knew about it, because we're friends." Neville's eyes were confused, and frightened. Hannah continued to sob in his arms, and Neville turned away, obviously ending the conversation for the night.

Harry stood, grasping his wand more firmly. _They knew. Somehow they knew about the wand! How had they found out? Who had told them?_

Harry sent Eleanor away and called Ron over, hurriedly explaining what Neville had said under hushed tones. Ron looked at him worriedly.

"Do you think they'll try to attack you? Will they be able to get past your wards?"

"No, I don't think so. Everyone who knows about this seems to be in custody. This radical group can't be _that_ big…"

Suddenly, shouts were heard as a dark shadow ran from the bar, and with a pop, escaped into the night.

"What happened!?" shouted Harry angrily.

"Sorry sir, one o'em was hiding, and soons we turned our backs, 'e took off before we could catch 'im!" Smith replied, guiltily.

Before Harry could begin his reprimands of "why didn't you fully check the premises?" and why wasn't "homenim revelio used!?" loud pops were heard all around them, and the air was filled with magic. Harry dodged a red streak that narrowly missed his shoulder. Neville was up again, firing defensive spells and dragging Hannah out of the line of fire. Harry heard a scream as one of his aurors went down.

There were so many of them! What had to be at least twenty wizards in cloaks and masks continued to fire spell after spell. Harry hurtled himself behind some trashcans, and watched as the rest took cover as well. Harry shouted shield charms mixed with the occasional offensive spell as he moved towards the fallen body of one of his men.

Seeing that they were completely overwhelmed, Harry bellowed, "RETREAT! BACK TO THE MINISTRY!" He watched as each of his aurors disapparated one by one.

"Ron! Get Neville and Hannah!" Harry commanded. But Ron was already on it, racing towards their friends at top speed. No one could apparate into the auror department unless they had clearance – meaning their wands were detected by the ministry wards.

Harry had almost reached his fallen comrade, recognizing Timothy Cane immediately. He was new to the department, and not quite as experienced as the others. Through the smoke left by the spells and fog left over from the darkness powder filtering into the street, Harry almost made it undetected.

"STUPEFY!" an angry voice roared, and Harry's shield charm came as a reaction, barely in time. He had been spotted, and the dark wizards were closing in. Another curse was fired from behind, forcing Harry to throw himself to the ground to dodge it. _I'm so close. If I ca just reach Tim I can disappate us both out of here!_ Harry thought. Another curse, and another and another! Harry's shield charm was breaking, and he knew he couldn't hold on forever. He made to dive towards Timothy's body, when his shield finally broke, and he was hit by a curse that knocked him to the ground.

All the breath left his body, and his head began to spin. He rolled over, intent on reaching his friend. If he could just make it a few more moments, reinforcements would arrive, and they would be ok.

But it was too late. Harry was hit again. He lay on his back, and looked up into the face of his soon-to-be captor. The man began to remove his mask and reach forward. In a matter of moments, Harry was grabbed by the shoulders, and everything faded to black.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Wand

Ron grabbed Hannah's and Neville's hands in both of his own, and with a twist, closed his eyes as all went black for a brief moment.

He opened his eyes to yelling and a flurry of activity.

Everyone in the department was rushing to and fro, tending to the wounded and sending out patronuses to collect all other available aurors, rousing them from sleep and directing they return to the office immediately to take care of the situation.

Hannah collapsed, sobbing, finally giving in to her raw emotions. Neville knelt beside her, whispering comfort and security. "Get her to her feet Neville, we have to make room for when Harry apparates here." Ron said urgently. The apparition spot was something added after the war, and though it was extremely handy, it was a little small and people tended to run into each other as they apparated back into the office. With a grunt, Neville and Ron pulled Hannah to her feet, and half dragged her to a nearby chair. "I have to help prepare the reinforcements. Someone will be with you soon."

"No! I can help. I was an auror once too, remember? And Harry is still back there. I'm not letting you go without me." Neville said vehemently. Hannah looked up, tears still in her eyes. But her expression was one of pride. Neville and Hannah seemed to have a conversation between themselves using only their eyes, before Hannah nodded in understanding and a small smile graced her lips. "Go. They're useless without you, anyway." Neville nodded and grinned, returning to his former warrior self. Ron smiled, then stood up and began barking orders.

"Creevey, I need you to contact Rivers and Yale, and have them bring the trainees who are qualified. Jones, make sure every able-bodied wizard is out of bed and in this office in two minutes, or we leave without them." Ron looked at the apparition spot, and felt his heart sink: Harry still hadn't appeared. He wanted to rush back immediately, but he knew it would only be foolish. Without enough reinforcements, it would only lead to more injuries, and could get Harry, himself, or any other auror who followed him killed. With a growl of frustration, he turned back to Jones, and all but shouted, "How many have arrived? I need a head count!" and to the rest of the department shouted, "WE LEAVE IN TWO MINUTES!" To himself, he could only hope that Harry would be okay.

Over the years, Harry and he had continued to face death countless times as they rounded up the last of the death eaters, as well as those who, though not physically marked as death eaters, agreed and acted on Voldemort's ideology. The face of Dolores Umbridge always made an appearance when Ron thought about those trials, as well as the Malfoy's, and other death eaters. He knew Harry could take care of himself, and after everything they had been through, the last thing Ron expected was Harry to finally be lost due to nothing but a few foolish death eater wannabes. Even if there were much more of them than previously assumed. _Right?_

Ron didn't like the cold feeling that filled his gut at the thought.

"ALRIGHT LISTEN UP!" Ron called everyone's attention, and immediate silence followed. " _The Risen Followers_ have proven to be much more numerous than previously believed, and they are desperate. They are highly trained, and I suggest you be prepared for unforgiveables. Harry is still back there, so keep an eye out. NOW LET'S MOVE!" With that, the now 30 aurors filling the room let out a shout of approval and made their way to apparition points along the wall, wands held high and muscles tense for a fight.

…

As soon as Ron appeared back in front of the Leaky Cauldron, he was hit with curses from all sides. He threw up his shield charm and dove to the side, dodging purple and red light. He cast three stunning spells, all hitting their targets.

The rest of the aurors appeared as well, and this time it was the radicals who were overwhelmed. Ron could barely see Harry through the smoke of the many spells being shot through the air. Harry was on his back, next to another auror whose face he couldn't make out. Harry was down, and no longer fighting. _Oh no._

Ron rushed from behind his cover, heedless of the danger. He ducked a jet of ominous green light, and kept running. A scream ripped from his throat as he watched his best friend be grabbed by a hooded, masked figure, and vanish.

With the disappearance of Harry and his captor, the call for retreat was sounded among the radicals, and Ron swore as he watched them disappear with a swish of their cloaks.

He ran to the last place he saw Harry, and sank to his knees in despair.

His fury was temporarily abated as he looked beside him and found his fellow auror, injured, lying next to him. Timothy Cane lay on the ground, blood seeping through his chest from a cutting curse. Ron yelled for help as he again burst into action, tearing open Timothy's robes to reveal the deep gash on his chest. Muttering a rudimentary healing spell, meant to pull the skin together for just long enough to reach St. Mungos. That done, he sat back and grabbed at his hair irritably. _What am I going to tell Ginny?_

Suddenly, something caught his eye. Timothy's arms lay at his side, his hands open. Both of his hands contained wands.

Ron eyes widened as he saw which wand was in Timothy's right hand.

 _Harry's wand._


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Revelations

Harry awoke slowly. His ears were ringing, as if an explosion had gone off too close. His vision was blurry, and he squinted trying to make out his surroundings. Someone had been kind enough to leave him his glasses, but he was tied to a chair in what seemed to be a basement with walls of cement.

A metal door at the far end of the room served as the only way in or out. The minutes ticked by as Harry struggled to remove his bindings. But it was no use. They were enchanted, of course, and no amount of pulling twisting, or tugging would remove them. His wrists rubbed sufficiently raw and bleeding, Harry cursed under his breath, and instead began searching the room again for clues as to where he was, and perhaps a way out.

There was an empty shelf on one wall, the only thing in the room besides Harry and the wooden chair he was strapped to.

Suddenly, thuds were heard and footsteps drew nearer as the door was swung open. Four men entered, complete with their cloaks and masks, wands drawn and pointed at Harry.

Without delay, three strode forward. Two grabbed Harry by the throat and hair and forced his mouth open while the third poured a foul-tasting potion down his throat. Harry recoiled and fought, spitting the potion out before they could force his mouth shut. He swung his head forward and felt it collide with one of their faces with a sickening crunch and a curse, throwing them both to the ground. Harry kicked out, and felt his foot strike the man who had been holding his chin right in the knee. The man bellowed and fell to the ground as well, and Harry continued to strike out until suddenly, all he could feel was white-hot pain. Agony radiated throughout his body, like knives were piercing his every inch. He clamped his mouth shut, determined not to show weakness.

Suddenly the spell lifted, and Harry gasped. A fist struck out and he felt his head slam into the floor, a new pain exploding on his cheek. He lay there on his side, still tied to the chair, gasping and reeling from shock.

"Get up you idiots! Get him back on his feet." Commanded a thin, velvety voice from the direction of the door.

Harry groaned as he was roughly put back in place, and felt his feet touch the ground once again. He could do nothing but glare defiantly at his captors. He was pleased to see one of the men had blood trickling down his face, seeping out from under his mask where his nose was struck. Harry smirked defiantly.

"That was very brave, Mr. Potter, but I'm afraid your antics will not help matters." The man who was obviously in charge still stood by the door, his wand out. It was he who had cast the cruciatus curse.

"Screw you." Harry spat.

"Brave but foolish. Isn't that how he used to describe you? The _Dark Lord_?" The man replied again. Harry couldn't help but flinch slightly, as memories of the war returned full force: looking at all the dead in the great hall, watching the Weasley's mourn their son, as Voldemort's voice echoed throughout the school and grounds, " _brave, but foolish…"_

The man began speaking again, and Harry nearly missed it as he forced himself out of the onslaught of memories.

"We require your assistance, Mr. Potter. You see, you have something we desperately need. A Wand." There was a smile in the man's voice, invisible beneath his mask, but evident in his demeanor.

"Now, you will allow us to pour this veriteserum down your throat, or you will not be the only one who gets tortured. We know where you live, and I think your dear little wife will be more than happy to oblige us once we've given your children a taste of our medicine, don't you think?"

Harry paled. He couldn't let that happen. James and Teddy were safe at Hogwarts. But Albus and Lily. _Ginny._ They were probably so worried, not knowing where he was. He knew his home had powerful wards, and he knew Ginny was a powerful witch and duelist, but still… He could never live with himself if he put them in danger.

He knew then that he would do anything this man wanted, if it meant his family were kept safe.

Once again, his mouth was forced open, and this time, he swallowed the potion.

….

"What is your name?"

"Harry James Potter."

"What are the names of your children?"

"Theodore Remus Lupin. James Sirius Potter, Albus Severus Potter, and Lily Luna Potter."

"Very good, Mr. Potter. Now onto the more serious questions… _How did you defeat Lord Voldemort?"_

"I didn't. I had help. A lot of help. Technically it was a combination of Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy, though in Malfoy's case it was completely unintentional. Oh, and Dumbledore of course."

The man sighed. "Always so humble, aren't you? Let me be more specific. Did you have the use of the Elder Wand to aid in your defeat of the Dark Lord?"

A pause, as the question processed in Harry's mind. Before he could stop himself, his mouth opened seemingly of its own accord.

"Yes."

The man seemed to grin, pleased with the results he was getting. Harry watched, barely registering through the daze that was becoming more and more powerful in his mind, and the man's eyes widened in excitement.

"And are you the current master of the Elder Wand?"

Another pause as Harry heard another voice in his head; his own voice, telling him to keep his mouth shut! But the voice was faint, and it was becoming too painful. Again, seemingly of its own accord, Harry's mouth opened and answered. "Yes."

" _Where is it?"_

The tension in the room was palpable, and the hunger in the eyes of his questioner disturbing. Harry felt as if he had been imperioused. But this time, the voice of his self-conscious was so much quieter. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, searching for the voice that told him to stop! Stop! Stop answering!

For a moment it was there, and as pain exploded in his mind and body from fighting the potion, he almost succeeded.

"TELL ME WHERE IT IS!" and with that question, Harry's resistance faded to nothing.

"In the tomb of Albus Dumbledore." Later, Harry would feel defeated, guilty, and desperately angry at himself for succumbing. It wasn't really his fault, and not one person had ever withstood the effects of veriteserum. But he would be angry anyway, because the next question not only undid him, but proved to be the greatest danger of all.

" _And where is the resurrection stone_?"


	7. Chapter 7

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 7: The Plan

Harry sat in a different room now. It was old and dusty, and all the furniture had been removed. But it had a bathroom connecting to it, which he was very thankful for. His captors had left hours ago, leaving him behind feeling utterly beaten. His mind had finally cleared from the effects of the potion, and he had spent the last 20 minutes trying to find a way out of the room. To his dismay, there was only one way in or out, and that door had an impenetrable charm on it, making it impossible to open from his side.

" _Thanks to you, Mr. Potter, we will now be able to bring back the Dark Lord! He will be greater than ever, and you will be his first victim. Think on it for a while, Savior of the Wizarding World. How does it feel to be utterly helpless in the face of what's to come?"_

Harry willed himself to think straight, and to create a plan of action. _How long would it take for them to enter Hogwarts? And after that, how long before they found the stone? If they even could find it. 17 years of weather had probably buried it deep by now,_ Harry thought to himself. Though slightly relieved by this thought, Harry was also irritated. It wouldn't even be that hard to get onto the Hogwarts grounds! If even one of them had a child in Hogwarts, they could enter under the guise of visiting. Or they could even say they were visiting the memorial, or Dumbledore's grave. _How_ had they all become so lax in security? Harry also realized how truly dangerous a position he was in. When they got the wand, they would have to win its allegiance.

Harry had always been careful concerning his wand. Even as an auror, he had never allowed his wand to be taken. It had _not_ been an easy feat, but he knew how easily wands' allegiances could be won, and it was not only his own wand's allegiance that was at stake, but the Elder Wand's allegiance as well. He intended ever since that day talking to Dumbledore's portrait that the power of the Elder Wand would end with him.

Harry thought back to the battle in front of the Leaky Cauldron again, replaying it over in his head.

 _He looked up into the masked face. He knew this was it. He was going to be captured, just as Neville and Ron warned him he might. He prepared to raise his wand for one last effort, when suddenly, his hand touched someone. Harry knew what he had to do. Instead of firing, he released his wand and pressed it into the palm of Timothy Cane, and allowed himself to be grabbed by the arm and spirited away._

Harry had mixed feelings about this decision now. If he had kept his wand, then his captors surely would have taken it, ending in the same result as when Harry snatched Draco's wand out of his hand at Malfoy Manor so many years ago. Harry wasn't positive at the time that the Elder Wand was truly what these men were after, but now he was at least glad he didn't make it _too_ easy for them.

On the other hand, the only option now would be to _kill_ the master in order to earn the wand's allegiance.

This was the real dilemma.

Harry mulled it over as he waited, continuing to wonder if the stone really was possible to find, and if these madmen could even get onto the Hogwarts grounds in the first place. And what did they mean about bringing Voldemort back? That wasn't even possible.

No spell can bring someone back from the dead. Harry knew this better than anyone.

Another few hours passed, and Harry allowed himself to doze as he fought his exhaustion. Finally, steps were heard as the men entered once again. Harry moved himself to the far wall, and tensed himself for what was to come, preparing to fight to the last breath.

But as the door opened and the same four men entered the room again, Harry was surprised when they made no move towards him this time. After they closed the door, they faced him, seeming to do nothing but observe him for a couple moments.

When the tension reached its climax, the "ringleader" finally spoke.

"We have the wand. Thank you for informing us of its whereabouts. I was quite shocked to look into the face of my old headmaster. He looked just the same as I remember him; though with a few more wrinkles I'll admit. We also, through much effort, were able to uncover the stone as well. Quite a pretty little thing. Smaller, and simpler than I imagined, but no less powerful I'm sure. That oaf Hagrid almost made it difficult, but luckily he is easily fooled and no drastic measures had to be taken."

Harry couldn't help the look of disappointment that crossed his features. He had failed. He had wanted them to stay hidden and safe, and now they were in the hands of a criminal; a zealot of Voldemort and his ideals, whose identity still remained a mystery.

Harry looked back up again, into the eyes of his tormentor, barely visible from behind the mask.

"So what now? What's the big plan? Going to kill me then?" Harry asked defiantly, his eyes glinting.

"Oh no, of course not Mr. Potter. No, we plan on granting that achievement to the Dark Lord himself."

Harry's blood ran cold. He didn't like where this was headed. "And how do you plan on doing that? In case no one informed you, that bastard is dead. And even with the stone, no magic can truly bring anyone back from the dead. Even if you were to invoke its power, he would be nothing but a shadow; weaker than a ghost." Harry responded.

"Ah, but you are missing a few key points, Mr. Potter. You see, there are certain powers that remain relatively unstudied; untapped, should I say. Death is one of them, along with time. You see, when I worked at the ministry, I was what is called an Unspeakable. My studies had to do with those very entities. When you and your ridiculous rabble of friends trashed the department of mysteries during your fifth year, you destroyed the time-turners, along with much of my work. However, I was able to collect quite a bit of sand. Seeing the great Sands of Time removed from their shattered holders, and strewn about the place, well, it gave me quite the inspiration.

You see, for centuries wizards have studied the sand in an effort to go back in time; rewrite their mistakes, as it were. But they failed to realize even further potential, such as the ability to restore. It is my assumption that even once I do call the Dark Lord and resurrect him, he will be… more frail, let's say. So many horcruxes must take a toll, I should think."

"How do you -?"

"How do I know about the horcruxes, when it has been one of your life's missions to remove such knowledge from society, and hide such dark magic from the world? I am not stupid. I have studied many elements of death, including wizard-kinds many efforts to escape it. How else would one explain Voldemort's resurrection during the Triwizard Tournament, and his strange and terrifying appearance – almost like he wasn't completely human… or your own whereabouts during the last year of the war? One only need pay attention to the details."

Harry furrowed his brow. "So what you're saying is, you have discovered the sands of time not only can take you back in time, but can restore what? Health? Life?"

"No, it's not so simple as health only, but it can restore you to your _prime._ The time when you were most powerful, strongest, most healthy. The ritual involving a 70-year-old man, when done properly, could restore his body to his mid-30's again, or even his 20's if that was his greatest age, as if time had never affected him at all."

Harry was amazed. He had never heard of such a thing. Even the Philosopher's stone could only freeze or slow down your aging process. It could not restore what was already lost. If what he was saying was true, then at Voldemort's resurrection, it would be as if he had never made the horcruxes at all – he would be whole, complete, and therefore extremely powerful and able to start the process all over again just as he had in his rise to power. And this time he would be able to remedy his past mistakes – the only mistakes that made his defeat possible.

"So, you're going to use the stone to call forth his spirit or soul or whatever, and then what? Restore his body? Just like that?"

At this explanation, the man's eyes were wide, and his glee could not be hidden. Harry felt his stomach drop, and his breathing go shallow. _It's not possible. No one can bring back the dead._ But dread filled him as he realized it might just be possible. He forced himself to focus as the man continued to speak.

"Almost. There still requires one more powerful object – one more ingredient to be the bridge that brings his soul into this world. You will know soon enough." Harry glared at him, but the man continued, unfazed.

"Lastly, as a gift to my Lord when he returns, I will give him the Elder Wand, which he will use to murder you. He will thereby win its allegiance, and once again become the most powerful wizard ever to walk the earth. We've only one last place to go, to complete the ritual, and you will accompany us there."


	8. Chapter 8

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 8: The Rising

Harry fumed silently as he banged on the wall of the briefcase. _How had this happened?_ Only 24 hours ago Harry was sitting at breakfast with his family, laughing at Lily's chattering and reminding Albus once again that he was only 10, and he still had a year before he needed to even begin to worry about what house he would be sorted into.

And now he was stuck in a briefcase, just like Mad-Eye Moody had been stuck in a trunk during Harry's entire fourth year. Though the briefcase, just like Moody's trunk, had thankfully been magically enlarged inside, but it was still claustrophobic, just knowing he was actually inside a briefcase.

He couldn't believe that the ring-leader of _The Risen Followers_ had worked at the ministry! He didn't anymore, obviously, but his status was good enough that he could still enter under the guise of visiting old work-mates. He had brought 7 of his fellow radicals with him, some of whom already worked at the ministry to Harry's utter bewilderment. _They've been right under my nose the entire time! Some auror you are, Potter!_ And others were using polyjuice potion. Apparently, Harry's break-in using polyjuice potion had not sparked any change in security, he was seriously irritated to realize.

He could only hear incoherent mumblings as they entered the ministry. Suddenly, a familiar _ding!_ was heard, and the cool woman's voice saying, "Department of Mysteries" was heard.He waited impatiently until he was suddenly knocked off his feet, his whole body jolting as the briefcase was unceremoniously dropped to the ground.

"Alright, Mr. Potter. You have a good travel?" a harsh voice sounded as the brief case was opened. He prepared to jump when he was immediately hit by a "Petrificus Totalus" and felt his body go immobile. The man magicked him out of the briefcase, and he felt himself return to normal size; though the curse wasn't removed until he was sufficiently bound by ropes around his torso and ending with his hands tied behind his back. They dropped him unceremoniously in front of a hard, stone bench.

He looked around himself and was forced to shut his eyes as images of his fifth year began to assault him. 

_It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall: his body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backwards through the ragged veil hanging from the arch. Harry saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his godfather's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil…_

The chamber looked just the same as it had the last time he was here. He looked up at the raised dais, on which stood the archway. He heard voices, clearly whispering. Just as before, he couldn't make out what they were saying, but they seemed even louder this time; stronger. He knew this was the doorway to Death; the entrance that connected the two worlds. It was to be this place that _The Risen Followers_ would anchor their power, and force the merging of soul and body.

Harry could only see the back of the man's head as the leader replaced his mask.

"Mulciber, charm the door and make sure no one can enter. Grey, guard the prisoner and make sure he can't escape." With his mask back in place, the wizard turned back around to face Harry. "And now, you will witness. The stone will call the Dark Lord's spirit, the Veil will allow him to enter this world, and sand and my power will restore and perfect his body. It will be a miracle, wrought by _me."_

Understanding blossomed as Harry looked at the archway. The veil was the connection between the world of the living and the dead, just as Hermione had once explained to him. She once said that those who heard its whispers were those who believed in an after-life. The stone could call people from the dead, yes, but they were only seen by the user, and they didn't belong here, as the story of the Three Brother explained. But, if combined, the stone and the veil could not only call forth spirits, but allow them to remain and do as they pleased – like a ghost!

And with the sands of time, flesh and blood could be restored to a ghost, effectively returning someone from death back to life. To recall someone from death, one would need all three: the Stone, the Veil, and the Sands of Time. This was truly incredible, and the possibilities began filling his mind quickly as he thought about all those whom he had loved, and who he had wished countless times to see again.

Harry forced himself to focus as the remaining men surrounded the archway, raising their wands to create a kind of barrier and their leader began to chant. Harry couldn't help but wonder how Voldemort would look now – if his soul would be like he was before his first horcrux, handsome and whole. Or would the destroyed horcruxes have an effect?

A light seemed to be coming from inside the archway, and the whispers were getting even louder. Harry couldn't look away when the resurrection stone was removed from the cloak and the wizard brought his mouth close to the stone, caressing it like a genie's lamp, and whispered, " _Lord Voldemort."_

Harry's eyes widened and his mouth went dry as he saw him appear. It had been 17 years, yet the sight made his blood run cold and his breaths come out in gasps. Lord Voldemort stood before the archway, surrounded by his devotees. Harry soon noticed there seemed to be parts missing; the effect of missing so much of your soul was not small nor insignificant. Voldemort's head and torso remained, however his limbs and a part of his chest were gone. Harry was reminded of a Dementor, with their cloaks flowing behind them in tendrils, lacking any body to hold them in place.

It seemed Voldemort was in pain as he emerged; he moved so slowly, like his soul was arthritic. His soul was even paler and more translucent than those of Harry's parents, Remus, and Sirius had been when he called them to his aid as he walked to his death that fateful night. He was even paler than the ghosts of Hogwarts, and Harry was also reminded of Nearly Headless Nick, whose wound from his nearly severed head remained even after death.

"My Lord." His followers echoed as they all knelt before him. Voldemort let out a humorless laugh as he watched. He seemed to wait for one of them to speak, and finally their leader did.

"My Lord," he said again, "It is I who has called you forward, and brought you back from death. If you will allow me, I will do much yet to restore you to your former glory." Voldemort looked at him suspiciously, before answering,

"How exactly do you plan on bringing me to my former glory, fool? I was once the greatest dark wizard known to man. If it were not for Potter and that meddling old man, I would have brought the whole of the world to its knees!" His voice began soft and snake like, until it rose in volume, anger coursing through each word. "How do you intend to restore me when I don't even have my body?! _I do not even possess all of my own soul_." With that last phrase, his voice lowered again to a deadly whisper.

To the man's credit, he didn't even flinch at Voldemort's tirade. He only stood tall, the only one among his fellows. He raised his gaze to meet Voldemort's, and looked him right in the eye. "My Lord, I would not have raised you if I did not have a plan. I have used the Resurrection Stone to bring your soul forward, and the veil to allow you to reenter the world of the living. And with the sands of time, I will restore your body to its former prime and strength."

Voldemort was speechless. After a few moments, he responded, "I see. I admit I underestimated you. I will allow you to continue, but first, I must know who you are. _Remove your mask_."

Obediently, the man removed his mask, saying, "I am Henrick Ollivander, the great-great nephew of Gerrick Ollivander. I believe you've met him, my Lord." Ollivander's eyes shone a bright, pale blue, and his white-blonde hair flickered against the torchlight. His eyes had that same touch of wisdom and intelligence that seemed off with his much younger looking skin and demeanor. He couldn't have been more than 35 or 40 years old.

Voldemort smiled slightly, pleased, and nodded to Ollivander to continue with the incantation.

Harry couldn't believe it. Ollivander the _wand-maker?_ He didn't even know Ollivander had a family; _any_ family. In fact, Harry realized he didn't know much about Ollivander at all.

And yet it made sense that this man would be related to Ollivander. This man's knowledge of the Elder Wand and the other hallows, his keen intellect, and the fact that he was an unspeakable who studied subjects such as death and time seemed to relate significantly to the unique wand-maker whom Harry had come to care for.

Harry watched as Ollivander began chanting once again, intrigued as he threw a fistful of sand into the archway. It swirled and mixed, soon flowing in a whirlwind around Voldemort, and Harry watched as Voldemort's frail appearance seemed to harden and strengthen. He looked younger, closer to late thirties, and he no longer possessed red eyes. Though still pale, it was no longer so unnatural as to be inhuman. It was as if years had been taken away from him and he was returned to his former glory – perhaps what he would have looked like if he had not already made so many horcruxes by the time he was middle-aged.

Fear began working its way down his spine as Harry witnessed the body of Lord Voldemort meld with his soul, complete with a blinding flash of light and wind. Harry was thrown back against the bench he was tied to, snapping the back of his head against the stone. The rest of the Followers were thrown from the Dais, landing in crumpled heaps at the edge of the chamber.

 _Lord Voldemort had risen again._


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Ginny

Ginny paced back and forth in the kitchen, wringing her hands. It had been 33 hours: 33 hours since Harry had been taken. She was too tired and anxious and angry and scared to cry; instead, she could only pace, biting her lip and snapping at anyone who dared interrupt her.

She had sent the kids to her mother's. Her anxiety was making them anxious as well, and it was causing Lily to cry and Albus to withdraw into himself, and Ginny didn't want them seeing her this way.

Suddenly, she heard her hearth flare up in the other room, and listened as someone stumbled out of the fireplace. Running to the living room, she burst in, hoping so to see the one who would make it all better.

But no. It was only Ron. She stopped short, and dropped her gaze, disappointment coursing through her. Ron began brushing the soot off his robes, as if purposefully drawing out the inevitable moment when he would have to give her the bad news. Losing patience, Ginny crossed her arms and cleared her throat expectantly. Finally, he faced her, and she raised her eyes to meet his.

"Ginny…" He began. Ginny could tell whatever he had to say, she didn't want to hear. Ginny didn't think she could handle more bad news.

"Don't." She snapped, before he could continue. She took a deep breath. "It's obvious you have nothing good to say, so just don't." Then, she spun on her heel, and went back to the kitchen to make yet another cup of tea.

Ginny refused to look at Ron as she set the kettle to boil, and resumed her pacing. Seeing his hurt expression would make her feel guilty, and frankly she didn't have enough emotional availability at the moment to add yet another feeling.

Ron grimaced. It wasn't the first time she had snapped at him. Harry had been missing for more than a day, and up until now, there had been very little to even hint at his whereabouts. Ron had taken charge of the auror department, and had all hands on deck, calling in all informants and even getting the old Order members involved; but to no avail.

The only lead they had was what Neville had told him about being interrogated about Harry's wand. Ron could only assume these people were looking for the Elder Wand, and by extension, the rest of the Deathly Hallows. The cloak was locked away in Harry's home office, along with the pensieve and other private objects of Harry's. The enchantments on the office were basically unbreakable, but by highly skilled and talented wizards, of which few would even have the time or reason to break through all the locks and spells. Ron had, of course, informed Ginny on everything that had been going on with their search for _The Risen Followers,_ andNeville and Hannah's torture. Ron had also given Harry's phoenix wand to Ginny for safekeeping.

Ron had told McGonagal that someone might try to break into Dumbledore's tomb, and urged her to be on the look-out. She was very confused, understandably, but she didn't ask for any details. He told her to contact him immediately should anyone wish to see the tomb or go into the forbidden forest.

That was why he was here now. Something had happened.

"Ginny, I have news. It's not exactly good news…" he said hurriedly, hoping she wouldn't hex him.

Ginny paused in her pacing finally, and shut her eyes. She seemed to be repeating some sort of mantra in her head as she prepared herself for whatever Ron was about to tell her. Slowly, she opened her eyes again and turned to face him, nodding her assent to continue.

"There was a break-in at Hogwarts. Some parents came to visit their children, and they claimed they also wanted to visit the war memorial. While they were there, someone broke in to Dumbledore's tomb. It took quite a bit of powerful, dark magic, and caused quite the disturbance. They've all been called in for questioning, but the man who did it fled the scene and is nowhere to be found."

At this, Ron paused, gauging her reaction before continuing, "But we do have a lead. At the time of the break-in to the tomb, McGonagal was distracted because some ministry members also came to Hogwarts. They were from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. They claimed to have an appointment with Hagrid, so McGonagal accompanied them on the way to his cabin. Before they got there, alarms went off because of the break-in to Dumbledore's tomb. She was forced to see to the break-in, and left them to continue to Hagrid's on their own.

Instead of visiting Hagrid, they went deep into the forest without being detected; but Hagrid saw them on their way back out. He was attacked – but he's fine! Nothing can get through that thick hide of his." Ron chuckled nervously, watching as Ginny's eyes flashed and her mouth got dangerously thin. McGonagal like, even. "I believe, as does Hermione, that they were looking for the stone. We also believe they got what they were looking for."

At this, Ginny finally broke down into tears. Ron quickly summoned a chair, and she collapsed into it. "I knew it. Those damn Hallows are cursed, and I knew they would bring us nothing but grief and sorrow. No one can have so much power without being plagued by those who want to take it." Ginny said through her tears, as if this were a practiced and well-worn argument. _It probably is an old argument; one she and Harry probably have all the time,_ Ron thought to himself. It was an argument he and Hermione had had as well, especially regarding the resurrection stone, and whether they should go and find it. Hermione always feared it would be found one day, and thought it was foolish to just leave it lying in the ground where Harry dropped it.

Ron held his little sister as she cried. It didn't take nearly as long as it usually took Hermione before Ginny got control of herself again. Ron produced a hanky with his wand, and let her compose herself while he made the tea. Finally, he summoned his own chair and sat across from her.

"Ginny, like I said, we have a lead. Those wizards who claimed to be from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures? One of them actually _is_ from the department. Hagrid recognized him! Furor Grey! I have men tracking him down as we speak, and they will send me notice the moment he surfaces.

Just like that, coincidences be damned, a patronus graced into the kitchen in the form of a chipmunk. "Grey has been found. He just walked into the ministry of magic, and has gone to the department of mysteries. Awaiting your arrival."

Ron leapt to his feet, removing his wand as the patronus dissolved. "That was Dennis. Grey might know where Harry is, Ginny! I'll send word the moment we catch him and find out what he knows." Ginny nodded, and before Ron could rush to the next room to floo to the ministry, she grabbed him in a hug, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Find him, Ron. Bring him back to me."

"I will. I promise."

Ginny returned to her pacing, and after a while retired back to the living room. She wanted to be there when Ron returned. She spent the almost an hour looking out the window to her front lawn, trying and failing to knit another scarf for Christmas.

Suddenly, a flash of bright light and heat shocked her vision, and she was momentarily blind. She threw up her hands to protect herself, and looked out on the front lawn. As her vision cleared, her eyes widened, and a gasp left her lips.


	10. Chapter 10

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 10: The Duel

 _Fear began working its way down his spine as Harry witnessed the body of Lord Voldemort meld with his soul, complete with a blinding flash of light and wind. Harry was thrown back against the bench he was tied to, snapping the back of his head against the stone. The rest of the Followers were thrown from the Dais, landing in crumpled heaps at the edge of the chamber._

 _Lord Voldemort had risen again._

Harry redoubled his efforts to release his hands from their bonds as the wizards stumbled back to their feet and began making their way back to the dais. Suddenly, Harry felt eyes upon him and looked up into the face of his nightmares. Voldemort, looking just as he had in the graveyard, had finally noticed the captive tied 30 feet from him. First a smile, and then a breathy cackle began to fill the chamber as Voldemort recognized who it was.

"I admit, Mr. Potter, I did not expect to see you so soon. How does it feel to witness my second resurrection?" he laughed again, and Harry felt anger course through him.

"I admit, Tom, it's kind of pissing me off. I really thought I was over this part of my life." Harry mocked, face set in a defiant glare. Voldemort seemed to be amused by Harry's reply.

"Ollivander! I do hope you were planning on providing me with a wand…" Voldemort snapped, calling the man to his side.

"Of course, my Lord. I have two wands for you, in fact." At this he paused, as if waiting for permission to continue. Voldemort nodded his consent, and Ollivander smiled smugly as he said, "One, I made specially for you with which you can defeat Harry Potter." With that, Ollivander pulled from his robes a wand made of bright white material. He bowed, presenting it to his master. Voldemort pulled it from the man's outstretched hands, and ran his fingers down the sides, concentrating.

Voldemort's eyes flew open, shock evident on his face. "This is a wand made of Basilisk fang, is it not?" He asked slowly, eyes narrowing in puzzlement.

"Yes, my lord. Salazaar Slytherin himself created a wand of Basilisk Horn before it was destroyed. I have worked very hard to create an instrument worthy of the great Lord Voldemort; one that fits your unique abilities and power, as well as relates back to your _pure heritage_." Voldemort started only slightly by his servants use of his name. His eyes were wide in amazement and it was obvious he was pleased enough to let it pass.

"I agree, it is a unique and powerful instrument, worthy of one as great as I. But," Voldemort's face dropped back into his suspicious expression once again, "You said you had two wands for me. Which is the second?" At that, Ollivander's smile widened as he drew the second wand from his robes. "I believe you will recognize it, my Lord."

As he passed forward the Elder Wand, Voldemort was once again taken by surprise. Voldemort broke out in a breathy laugh. It sounded so strange and wrong, Harry cringed and continued his fight against the ropes covering his wrists and torso. His wrists were slick with blood now, and his shirt was being rubbed thin, but the enchanted ropes refused to budge. Sweat trickled down his brow and into his eyes. Harry blinked the drops away irritably, and then froze as he felt Voldemort's eyes return to him.

"CRUCIO!" Voldemort screeched, pointing the Elder wand at Harry's heart. Harry waited for the pain, but once again there was nothing. The Elder Wand did not react against him. Like before, it refused to act against its master. Voldemort screeched, this time in anger; and Harry got an idea.

"It won't work, Tom. I'm still its master, even after all these years. No one has disarmed me yet, and I don't plan on letting them. I don't plan on dying either." _RELASHIO!_ Harry thought to himself, performing silent and wandless magic. He let out a gasp of relief as a jet of light shot from the wand and slashed the ropes on Harry's torso, freeing him finally. In the same instant, the Elder Wand flew from Voldemort's grasp, seemingly excited to be back with a master and in action again.

Harry threw himself forward, throwing off the ropes and caught the wand midair. But he was too distracted. A curse from Voldemort's new wand threw Harry high into the air, landing hard against the stairs and rolling down. He saw stars as he crumpled in a heap on the ground. Suddenly, his body burst into pain as the Cruiciatus curse was cast once again, this time hitting its mark. Like before, he tried to grit his teeth and show no weakness; however, Voldemort's curse was quite a bit more powerful than Ollivander's, and in only a few seconds of being held under, he released a scream of agony. The pain continued and Harry feared he would go insane until finally it lifted, leaving Harry gasping and spitting blood.

"You fool. You cannot defeat me…"

"I already did, you bastard. What's once more?" Harry snarled, raising laboriously back to his feet and drawing his wand. Voldemort seethed, and slashed his wand through the air, silently casting another curse. Harry threw up his shield, and responded in kind. 17 years an auror had given him some new skills, and his spells were more powerful than ever.

Voldemort cast a powerful offensive, and a fiery rope was cast towards Harry. Harry blocked it and sent fire back in the shape of a stag. Voldemort was forced to deflect it, and tried again to send another curse, but Harry had disapparated, appearing on Voldemorts left. He quickly stunned two of the wizards behind him, and deflected another curse from Grey. Voldemort turned, and sent a foreboding bolt of green lightning at Harry. Harry threw himself to the ground, barely dodging the curse. Electricity seemed to surge around the chamber, as Voldemort sent another lightning strike at Harry. Harry disapparated on the spot, appearing at the top of the chamber.

Harry tried to disapparate out of the chamber, and growled as the wards around the chamber forbid it. Harry ran to the door and tried to open it, cursing as it failed to budge. Harry did a diagnosis spell to discover how the door was enchanted, and was frustrated to discover only the one who had cast the spell could open it. He was about to try and see if the Elder Wand's power could surpass the lock when he was sent flying 10 feet into the air, landing painfully on his ribs as he hit a bench. Groaning, he wrenched himself up and again disapparated, barely missing another jet of green light.

Voldemort was furious, yelling commands to his five remaining followers. Harry appeared behind the archway, looking at Voldemort through the veil on the other side. He stunned two more wizards with a harsh flick of his wand, then yelled, "Incarcerous!" wrapping Ollivander in thick ropes. Another flick and Ollivander's wand flew into the air, landing far behind him. "ACCIO!" Harry yelled pointing at Ollivander. The Resurrection Stone flew into Harry's hand just as Voldemort cast a killing curse at Harry through the veil. Voldemort screamed in frustration as the veil seemed to envelop the curse, acting as a sort of barrier. Harry gasped in relief, realizing he was once again master of all three Hallows, and Death had just acted as a protector.

But it was short lived, as suddenly Voldemort appeared beside Harry, forcing him to dodge a powerful cutting curse by once again throwing himself to the ground. Not fast enough. Harry gritted his teeth as new agony flared up along his arm and the length of his shoulder blade.

Harry rolled to his feet, and he and Voldemort once again began to duel fiercely, each grimacing as their shields wavered and cracked. Harry wasn't powerful enough, and soon his shield shattered and ropes made of snakes flew around his torso, forcing his arms to his sides, tightening around his throat. Harry sunk to his knees, unable to breath and watched as Voldemort stepped closer and closer until he stood directly in front of him. Voldemort raised his wand and Harry couldn't help but flinch, expecting either pain or death. What he wasn't expecting was for the snakes to loosen their hold on his windpipe, but suddenly he could breathe again! Harry blinked back tears as he gasped for oxygen, and looked up into Voldemort's pitiless red eyes.

"I must admit, I am astonished by how much you've improved. No longer the scared little boy from the graveyard, are we? No longer the brat, trusting the senile old fool. Even _he_ could not escape death, even if it was by his own making. I, on the other hand, have once again come back to life."

"Dumbledore wasn't a fool. He remains the only wizard you ever feared; the only wizard who could make you cower! He beat you before, and even in death he beat you. It was Dumbledore who discovered your secret, it was Dumbledore who taught me exactly how to destroy you, and it was Dumbledore who held your most trusted deatheater's allegiance, as well as mine. You can beat death a hundred more times, but you will never be as great as Albus Dumbledore!" Harry replied angrily, noting the color rise in Voldemort's cheeks.

Voldemort raised his wand, a curse on the tip of his tongue, when suddenly a cry was heard, and a flash of blinding light shocked the room, forcing Harry to shut his eyes. Assuming it was the final curse sent by Voldemort, Harry could do nothing by clutch his wand tightly and think of Ginny.

Then he heard shouting. His eyes snapped open. Voldemort had stumbled, and Harry spun his head around to see Grey, Ollivander (who must have untied himself somehow) and the third _follower_ clawing at their faces as blood spurted from behind their fingers. He stared in confusion at what appeared to be deep gashes along their cheeks. Harry looked again at Voldemort, momentarily pleased to see a look of horror on the dark wizard's face. Suddenly, the snakes were completely released and they dissolved to nothing as Harry felt something heavy land on his shoulder. Fawkes the Phoenix, who had not been seen in 18 years, nudged Harry in the cheek, then flew into the air right above Harry's head, who simultaneously threw up his hands to grasp Fawkes' tail. In a flash of fire and light, and one last scream of "Avada Kedavra" by Voldemort, Harry and Fawkes were gone, and the green light hit nothing but a stone wall behind them.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Emerge

Ron rushed from the fireplace into the auror office, almost running headlong into Dennis Creevey, who stood waiting for him.

"Something else has happened, sir. We called you to tell you of Furor Grey, but there's been another disturbance." Ron nodded for him to continue as they made their way to the elevators. "We've been informed of a break-in here, at the ministry! In the Department of Mysteries. Apparently, an unspeakable who used to work here came by, and has since locked himself inside the Death Chamber; and he's not the only one in there. It seems an unknown number of wizards entered the chamber with him, including Furor Grey, and powerful, dark magic has been detected inside the Death Chamber. It's still going on as we speak. No one can get inside! All the aurors are making their way there now."

Ron looked around, and noticed there was no one in the office besides himself and Dennis. He continued quickly until he came to the elevator and waited impatiently for the lift to open. He began planning in his head. _What purpose would they have for being in the Death Chamber?_ Ron was suddenly hit with an onslaught of memories from fifth year; the Hall of Prophecy, the battle among the rooms, _the brain room._ As Dennis pushed the elevator button to take them down, Ron absentmindedly pushed up his sleeves and ran his fingers along the thick, but slightly fainter, scars that lined his wrists and snaked up his arms. He could still recall Madam Pomfrey telling him about the effect thoughts can have, and the deep scars they inflict. She warned him they may never disappear. She was right.

Ron shook himself from his deep thoughts as he returned to the present. _It's time for action, not dwelling on the past!_ He thought irritably as the elevator _dinged!_ and he strode into the hallway and through the door to the department of mysteries.

He entered the large circular room, remembering the fiery X's that had covered the doors the last time he was there. Spotting Eleanor Jones, he advanced towards her, an air of authority following him in his wake.

"What's the update on the situation?" Ron demanded, wand already out. The aurors around him were all tense, ready for battle, and two unspeakables were striving to open one of the doors.

"We've got a group of mostly unknown wizards inside the Death Chamber. There have been sounds of explosions and screaming coming from inside, and one of the unspeakables informed me something has happened to something called The Veil. They've been receiving reports on it, I dunno, malfunctioning or something. It's got something wrong with it, apparently. I don't understand it, honestly."

"I think I know what he's talking about. Bring me the unspeakable, I need to talk to him." Ron replied curtly.

"How do you know about it? I though only unspeakables were allowed to know what goes on down here." Jones asked curiously.

"I was here during the battle of the department of mysteries in 1996. I've been in the Death Chamber. I lost a friend to The Veil, and I admit I don't know a whole lot about it, but I do know that if there's been a disturbance with it, that can't be anything good."

Eleanor frowned in thought, and left his side to retrieve the unspeakable.

"Do you think Harry's in there?" Dennis asked suddenly. Ron blinked hard, allowing the dark to temporarily envelop him. "Merlin, I hope not." Ron responded. He had no desire for Harry to face that room again, or to have to face whatever new threat and pain was occurring inside that room as yet another bang and screams were heard. "And yet, somehow I've no doubt he is." Ron concluded as Eleanor returned, and with her a man who seemed to be ancient. His glasses were thick, and his cleanly shaved face was covered in wrinkles, and his bald head reflected the torchlight tremendously. His nose and ear hair were quite substantial, however.

Ron held out his hand as the man introduced himself. "I am Trevor Ferry. I study the Death Chamber, and the Veil. I've never been denied access before."

 _Of course he'd be the one studying the death chamber! He's ancient!_ Ron thought to himself before replying with much more class. "Thank you for coming. I'm Ron Weasley, and I am the acting head of the auror department. Jones here said you've recorded some type of disturbance occurring in the Death Chamber, is that correct?" Ron requested.

"It is very strange, Mr. Weasley. This type of disturbance has only ever happened one other time to my knowledge."

"When was that?"

"Oh, nearly twenty years ago, now. It was on the night of May 2, 1998." Ron paled. Fear suddenly crawled its way deep into his stomach, and a deep sense of foreboding caused him to take a sharp intake of breath.

Ron grabbed Ferry's shoulder before he could continue. "Creevey, Jones, this needs to be a private conversation. Go and see to getting that door open." He ordered. They both exchanged uneasy glances, but obeyed. Ron drew Ferry further towards the opposite wall, away from prying eyes and ears. "Pardon the intrusion, Mr. Ferry. Please continue."

Ferry nodded and continued as if nothing had happened. "The Veil normally emits a powerful energy about it, and when one is in the chamber, one can often hear whispers. You see, the Archway, and the Veil, are the physical embodiments of a gate between Life and Death. It is believed that the whispers are those from the other side; meaning those who have passed on, Mr. Weasley. In all my studies, I have never been able to understand the whispers, but their excitement and volume have been known to differ: during a war, or a battle, for example, when many souls are passing on to the other side. It was very excited that night in May, to be sure.

On May 2, 1998, it was recorded that the Archway produced an _enormous_ amount of energy, and I understood the whispers for the first time in recorded history. Not only that, but when one looked into the veil, human shapes could be seen. It was as if the gate had been opened, and the veil made significantly thinner than usual. It lasted for only a few moments before all went back to normal. We still have a copy of what our instruments recorded that night, if you would like to see them?"

Ron nodded, thunderstruck. Had Harry returning from the dead that night really made such an impact so far away? He couldn't believe it. Ron hesitated for only a moment before abruptly replying, "No. No, that won't be necessary. But you say that today, your instruments recorded something similar?"

"Yes, they did at that. After the door was sealed, and I realized I couldn't get in, I returned to my office to see if I could glean some information in what was happening inside the room. The veil produced a similar surge of energy, and the whispers were louder than ever. I have a recorder, you see. They spoke of resurrection, sir, and darkness returning. It only lasted a moment. I called the auror department immediately, because I feared something terrible was about to happen. That was when the screams and the bangs were heard. You arrived shortly after."

"Is there any way to get that door open, Mr. Ferry?"

"I'm afraid not. Not until those who closed it decide to come out."

"In that case, I want you and all the other unspeakables out of this department immediately. Whoever is in there and whatever is their reason for being there, I don't need extra casualties." Ferry gestured he understood, and Ron watched as he began to gather his co-workers.

Ron grimaced as a plan filled his head. It wasn't a very good plan, and it might result in all their deaths. But he also knew that if he didn't carry it out, many more lives could be at stake.

"LISTEN UP!" He bellowed suddenly, sending a shock to all the witches and wizards gathered, their nerves already tense for the impending battle. "Here's the plan. We have an unknown number of dark wizards inside this room. There is no way in, but we have the advantage. There also is no way out for _them_ but through _this very door_. When they emerge, we will be ready for them. Expect unforgiveables, and highly trained individuals.

SMITH, CREEVERY, HARRIS, GRAHAM, GOODWIN! Go up to the atrium and begin evacuations. People should be safe in their respective departments, but I don't want anyone out in the open in case these wizards get past us down here. As an extra precaution, I will be having the elevators disabled so they can no longer go up from this floor. You five will be the last to leave this area until you receive word via patronus. JONES! You will leave with them and inform Minister Shacklebolt of the situation if he hasn't already been informed. Get Cattermole to disable the elevator. If they get past us, the elevator's disabling charms won't hold forever, and we may need reinforcements upstairs to protect the other workers. Any questions?" Ron waited half a moment before nodding. "Good. GET TO IT!"

Another scream was heard from inside the room as Ron finished his orders and his men left in the elevators. The scream was a high-pitched shriek that raised the hairs along Ron's arms. _I've heard that scream before…_ Ron turned to face the door and barely had time to think when the door to the Death Chamber burst out from its hinges. _Too soon! The elevators haven't been disabled yet!_

Darkness filled the room, and before Ron could react, dozens of lights shot through the darkness like a lightning storm! Through the brief but powerful flashes, the whole room was lit up. Ron tried to squint through the flashes, and suddenly all the breath was lost from his lungs. He couldn't breathe! He couldn't think! He was frozen, as every ounce of him screamed in denial at the sight.

Lord Voldemort stood in the midst of the room.

Green lightning flew from Voldemort's wand, and Ron watched as his comrades began falling one by one. Ron began firing spells, but they were all deflected easily. His men, seeing his actions, began following suit. Voldemort let out a howl of fury, raising his wand and slashing it with deadly force and aim. Ron didn't know what to do. He was going to die, at the hand of the monster he had thought was long gone. He was going to die, here, in this massacre of the ministry.

"DON'T YOU EVER JUST DIE YOU BASTARD!?" Ron roared, fury etched into his face as he stood and faced the demon that caused so much pain. Voldemort turned and faced him, and a look of recognition seemed to cross his features.

 _Hermione, I love you,_ were the last words Ron thought before his world went black.

 **A/N**

 **Wow! What a cliff hanger! I know you hate me! But if you keep on reading and don't give up on me, I promise you will be happy you did!**


	12. Chapter 12

**I don't own Harry Potter not any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 12: Safety

It didn't feel like apparition. It didn't even feel like House-Elf apparition. _This_ felt like flying – like the first time he rode his Firebolt and he went faster than he'd ever gone before! It was exhilarating! And the heat was so intense – like he was surrounded by fire, but it didn't burn.

Then, it was over. The air slowed down around him, and he found himself on his hands and knees in grass. He opened his eyes and immediately felt dizzy and nauseous. He saw a glimpse of red and gold before shutting his eyes again in a desperate attempt not to be sick.

Then he heard her; the one he had thought about every minute in the last 36 hours.

"HARRY! Oh Harry, thank heavens." Harry was suddenly wrapped in a tight embrace. He opened his eyes to see her face full of surprise and relief at his safety. She had deep bruises under her eyes from lack of sleep, and her face showed worry wrinkles that hadn't been there before. Her eyes were red and swollen, and her hair disheveled. She had never looked so beautiful. He returned her embrace and buried his face in her hair.

"I'm home, Gin. I made it." He rasped. He could feel her tears on his chest, and her nails clinging to him, aggravating slightly his injuries; but he didn't care. The two stayed in each other's arms for a few moments, letting the relief wash over them. Finally, the silence was broken by Ginny pulling away.

"Where have you _been?_ What happened to you! Ron told me you were captured, and that they were after the wand and the stone and I was so afraid you would be killed!" Her voice broke as another sob rose to the surface.

Harry planted a firm kiss on her lips, like a reminder that he was real and home before pulling away again. He took her hands in his. "Ginny, something has happened. You're right. I was taken because of the Hallows, but it's much worse. Gin, we have to get out of here." Harry rose to his feet, bringing her up with him. The full impact of the situation had suddenly come crashing down, and Harry was beginning to panic.

 _Oh no. Voldemort is back, and he wants me dead. But this time I have a family; a wife and children! I can't let anything happen to them._ Harry grabbed Ginny's hands tightly in his own and rushed through the front door, not even bothering to close it behind them. "Ginny, where are the children? Tell them to pack a bag, and you too. We leave in ten minutes!"

"Stop! Harry why do we have to leave!? What's happened?" Ginny cried, tugging at his grasp.

"Ginny, there's no time to explain! He's probably still at the ministry, and who knows how many have already died! He could be here any time, Gin! I won't lose you like I lost my parents, and Sirius, and Remus, and Fred! I refuse to let anyone I love die because of me! Not this time!" Harry's eyes were wide with panic, and his breathing shallow and rapid.

"Harry, please, you're scaring me. _Who is coming?"_

"VOLDEMORT!" Harry cried, tearing his hands away from her and turning to face her fully. Running his hands wildly through his hair, Harry paced, panic replacing any sense of calm he had previously been trying to hold onto.

"HE'S BACK, GIN! VOLDEMORT! IT'S JUST LIKE BEFORE – AND HE WANTS REVENGE AND I CAN'T LOSE YOU!" At this Harry's hands flew to his mouth, to stop a scream or a sob Ginny wasn't sure. He fell heavily into a nearby chair, striving to gain control of his breathing.

Ginny was frozen. _It's not possible. This can't be happening, please God no, this can't be happening!_ Ginny spared herself only a moment before her own instincts kicked in.

"Alright, we're leaving. The kids are at mum's, they'll be safe there for now, and you and I need to pack a few things and get out of this house. You're right. Too many people know your address here in Godric's Hollow, and it will be too easy for Voldemort to find out where we are." Harry's eyes slowly raised to meet hers as she made this speech. When she finished, he nodded and rose to his feet, the auror and fighter once again. In his face showed resolve and determination. _That's the Harry I grew up with; the Harry I fell in love with,_ Ginny thought.

Harry hastened to their room while Ginny went to each of the kids' rooms, flicking their wands as they went. Immediately, items began soaring into open suitcases. After only a few minutes, they returned to the entrance hall. Harry banished the luggage to the Weasley home, and together, Harry and Ginny turned on the spot, vanishing into the suffocating darkness.

…

A loud pop was heard from the kitchen as Molly stood by the stove preparing dinner. It was too early for Arthur to be home, and she apprehensively went to the window to see who the unexpected visitor was. She let out a gasp, a cry leaving her throat. "Children! Children it's your father! Come downstairs, quickly!"

She rushed to the front yard about to wrap her adopted son into a tight embrace but was stopped short. He looked terrible. He was covered in bruises, and was trembling slightly, leaning heavily on Ginny. "Oh, Merlin, what's happened?"

"Hold on, mum. Just let us sit down a moment and we'll explain everything," Ginny replied, her face pinched with stress and worry. As they made their way to the front door, it was flown open.

"DAD!" Albus and Lily squealed, oblivious to their dad's current state of injury and exhaustion. Harry fell to his knees, wrapping his children in a tight hug, burying his face on top of their heads.

"Dad, are you ok? You're bleeding!" Cried Albus, pulling away only slightly. Harry only pulled him closer.

"I'm fine. I made it. Thank God you're all okay." He whispered, relief apparent in every syllable.

"Alright, kids, give your dad some space. He needs to get inside." Ginny tutted, helping Harry back to his feet. They walked into the kitchen, and Ginny ordered the children to run upstairs and collect their things. Hugo and Rose looked on from the bottom of the stairs, confusion on their faces.

Harry gratefully took the water Molly offered, and hissed as she began treating the large cut across his back and shoulder. He only listened as Ginny explained what he had just told her. Molly paled considerably, and they all turned as suddenly Molly's clock gave an almighty lurch and both Arthur, and Hermione's hands all turned to mortal peril. Molly immediately felt guilty to realize Ron's hand had already been turned to mortal peril; how long it had been there she wasn't sure.

"I've got to get to the ministry." Harry rose abruptly, striding towards the fireplace.

"No! You can't! You've only just got back, and you're still weak and exhausted! Harry, don't!" Ginny cried, running to block the floo entrance.

"Ginny, Voldemort is at the ministry right now, and who knows how many people he's already killed! I've got to go! It's my fault he's there!"

"Just because you think the world and all its problems revolve around you and fall to your shoulders does NOT mean you have to go and meet them head on! You need to stay here. I only just got you back!" Ginny held her hands out imploringly, blocking the entrance.

"Gin, you know I can't. I'm not a coward who let's someone else do my fighting for me! You knew that when you married me!" Harry snapped.

"FINE! IF YOU GO, THEN I GO!" Ginny's yells had brought the children back down the stairs, and Albus and Lily looked on from the doorway, fear and anxiety etched on their innocent faces.

"Dad, are you leaving again?" Lily asked. Harry spun around, facing his daughter.

"I've got to, sweetie. I love you too much, and I have to protect you." Harry replied quietly. Turning back to Ginny, he continued, "Ginny, I have no doubt you can hold your own against even the darkest of witches and wizards. You've done it already, and I wouldn't want anyone else by my side. But as much as I respect Remus and Tonks' sacrifice, we can't leave our children orphans. One of us _has_ to survive; be assured to survive, and I'll be damned if it isn't you. We can't risk it, Gin. Please." Harry stared deep into her brown eyes, imploring her to understand.

Slowly, Ginny nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "Fine. Go to the ministry. Just know I'll be here when you get back." After a pause, she seemed to collect herself, and she stood straighter before continuing. "I'll take the kids to Muriel's. It's empty now that the old hag is gone, and we can set up a fidelius charm there. I'll go to Hogwarts to collect James and Teddy, and probably Victoire and Fred, too. We'll wait for you and everyone else at Muriel's."

Harry nodded, appreciative of her practicality at a time like this. "Who will be secret keeper?"

"I will." Molly volunteered. "I'm too old to fight anymore, anyway. I'll be the secret keeper, and I can stay with the children."

"Thank you, Molly." Harry turned and embraced his adoptive mother. He then walked over to his two children and gave them another tight hug. "Daddy loves you. Always remember that, no matter what happens." He returned and gave Ginny a deep, meaningful kiss, before throwing powder into the fireplace, and shouting, "Ministry of Magic!" With a swirl of robes, he was gone.


	13. Chapter 13

**I don't own Harry Potter not any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 13: The Burning of the Ministry

" **HARRY POTTER HAS BEEN ABDUCTED!"**

What has happened, and what aren't they telling us? An inside look into the capture of the famous Harry Potter, defeater of the greatest dark wizard in history

Hermione set the paper down, huffing in frustration. They had tried so hard to keep this quiet! Not even McGonagall, or most of their friends, knew of Harry's disappearance yet! _Now that Harry's disappearance is known, the wizarding community will be in an uproar!_ Hermione groaned.

What was happening? Harry had been missing for a day and a half, and the leads were going nowhere! Ron had only been home to scarf down some food and rest for a couple hours before returning to work since Harry's disappearance, and he was obviously exhausted; but she couldn't blame him in the least.

The kids were anxious and confused. Rose was only 9, and Hugo only 7. She had elected not to tell them the details; only that Ron was needed at work. But they could see her stress and they knew she was keeping something from them.

Right now, they were at her mother-in-law's, where they spent most their days until Hermione or Ron got off work. She was up for a promotion soon at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and it really had her working overtime lately.

She slid another file closer to her, rubbing her eyes in frustration as she fought the urge to throw the file away. Harry was missing, and all she could do was sit in her office and wait for news. She wasn't an auror, and field work wasn't part of her job description, and it angered her more than ever!

"Mrs. Granger-Weasley? It seems there's a situation in the lower levels. Level nine, I believe. We've been told not to leave our departments." A young intern was looking in through her open office door. His acne shone, and it looked like he was still trying, and failing, to grow a mustache.

"Level nine? But that's the department of mysteries. If there was an accident, why should that impede us from leaving our departments?" Hermione replied curiously.

"Dunno, ma'am, only telling you what I been told." He replied, shrugging, before moving on to the other workers in the department to relay the same information. Hermione frowned, crinkling her eyebrows at the peculiarity of the situation. Shaking her head slightly, she decided to return to the problem at hand, when suddenly the floor shook with an almighty tremble, causing her quills and ink to tip over, spilling black liquid all over the desk. Her high stack of files tumbled to the floor, and Hermione grasped the edge of her desk for balance so as not to fall out of her chair.

 _What was that?_ She rose to her feet, stumbling slightly as the ground shook again. Pulling her wand from her robes, she exited her office and saw many of her co-workers on the ground, having lost their balance. Another tremble rocked the office, and this one was abruptly followed by screams from somewhere in the ministry.

Suddenly, flashing lights lit up the department and a cool, female voice sounded from somewhere above, "Fire in the Atrium. Please exit your departments and make your way to the ministry exits. Fire in the atrium. Exit the ministry premises immediately."

Hermione gathered her things quickly and prepared to leave. _Why don't they just put it out with magic? Aren't we witches and wizards?_ Hermione thought to herself, amazed that something to simple as a fire would require a full ministry evacuation. When she herself entered the elevator to go down to the atrium, the screams had become deafening, sounding from all around her. Upon exiting, she saw the center statue had been destroyed, and all the banners and entrance desks were up in flames, thickening the air with smoke.

Suddenly, she and her coworkers exiting the elevator were blasted off their feet. She hit the stone hard, seeing stars. She gasped as smoke filled her lungs and the heat quickly became unbearable. She rose from the floor and threw herself behind some debris, looking for whoever had cast the curse.

Then she saw him. In the center of the flames was one she never thought she would face again.

Lord Voldemort was in the ministry.

He was making his way to the exit points, and there were 7 wizards behind him, all shooting fire from their wands and cursing anyone who ran past. Hermione crouched, coughing and covering her mouth to stop more smoke from entering her lungs as they passed her by, not even noticing her.

Hermione watched as more workers sped from the elevators and were hit by curses. _I need a plan. I need backup! Where are all the aurors? Where's Ron?_ Hermione shot a spell into the sky. "METEOLO ENCANTO!" Rain began to pour from the enchanted ceiling, but the flames refused to diminish. Instead, they only grew stronger and hotter. _Fiendfyre!_ Hermione gasped in horror.

More fiendfyre shot out of Voldemort's wand in the shape of serpents and snakes, licking up the sides of the atrium and rushing down the elevator shafts, entering the individual departments. More screams erupted from the people trapped inside, echoing through the elevator shafts.

"NO!" Hermione cried, horror ripping through her as she watched the attack. Tears began to fill her eyes, but she quickly wiped them away and stood to face the dark wizards. Her wand slashed through the air, and a mass of pure energy rushed at the retreating men. They flew forward, slamming to the ground as her spell hit them unawares.

Voldemort, however, threw up his shield and spun to face her. She was thrown high into the air, and barely had time to think of a cushion charm, much less cast one, before she was thrown through a window in the upper levels, crashing into a desk and crumpling to the floor.

Her vision began to darken as more smoke began entering through the broken window. She groaned, and felt her mouth and nose fill with blood from the impact. Her body screamed in agony. She forced her eyes to open again, knowing if she lost consciousness she would likely become another victim to the flames that were fast approaching. With a strength she didn't know she possessed, she staggered to her feet and looked down into the atrium below.

Wizards were helping lower people from the open windows and getting them to the exit points before the flames could devour them. Kingsley Shacklebolt seemed to be one of a few wizards fighting the flames with the difficult and advanced counterjinx. He yelled orders to those around him, and Hermione could see Cormac McGlaggen with others from the Department of Magical Games and Sports on broomsticks, flying through the shafts to various departments and carrying out as many as they could. Voldemort was nearly at the exits now, he and his followers dueling at least 10 wizards in order to reach the apparition points.

Hermione scanned the duelists, hoping and also fearing that Ron was among them. She knew it would be near impossible to see him amidst all the chaos, but she had such a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach that something horrible had happened. She watched as 5 wizards were thrown off their feet by a powerful blast from Voldemort's wand. She screamed as he began firing killing curses at the last of the ministry's defenders. Two crumpled to the ground instantly, and the others surrendered their fight and fled, running to the smoke for cover. Voldemort had 5 followers left, and now nothing stopping him from leaving. He crossed the apparition barrier, and with a swish of his robes, he and his men were gone.

"Hermione! Get on!" Hermione barely heard him as Cormac McGlaggen grabbed her and dragged her onto his broom. They landed roughly, and she was released as Cormac lifted off to find others.

She sank to her knees, the pain of her injuries beginning to overwhelm her. Hands suddenly grabbed her shoulders and shook her out of her stupor.

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE SNAP OUT OF IT!"

She knew that voice. It was a good voice, but not the voice she truly wanted to hear right now.

"Harry?" She looked up into his green eyes. He was covered in bruises, with a bloody lip and his glasses were cracked. Blood caked his fingers and wrists. "Harry, what's happening? V-Voldemort was here, and Ron's gone. I don't know where he is." Hermione's tears threatened to overflow again, and she clasped a hand to her mouth to stifle the sobs.

"Hermione! Listen to me! I know about Voldemort, and we have to get out of here. I don't know where Ron is, but the fire is getting out of hand! I've got to get you out of here, 'Mione!" Harry shook her roughly again, then pulled her to her feet.

They began making their way to the nearest fireplace when another voice was heard. "There are still aurors in the lower levels! We can't leave them!" Dennis Creevey was howling frantically, rushing past them back towards the elevators with Kingsley following close on his heels.

"Ron could be down there, Harry! We can't leave him!" Hermione cried, fighting Harry's grasp. He held her tightly and continued to pull her to the fireplaces. "No! Let me go! RON!" Hermione began kicking and scratching, completely hysterical.

"Hermione! You're too injured; you're in no state to help him!" Harry bellowed in her ear. She continued to fight him, until another wave of pain and dizziness temporarily overtook her senses. The darkness threatened to cloud her once again, and she sagged in his arms. They both dropped to their knees in front of a fireplace, and Harry grabbed her face in his hands.

"Hermione, look at me! I will find him, I swear it. I'm not coming back without him. But you've got to get out of here, you're no help to him like this! Go to Molly's, and Ron and I will meet you there!"

"No, no, no, I can't, Harry. I can't leave him!" Hermione cried, the tears marking filthy tracks down her cheeks.

"Hermione, think of Rose, and Hugo. They are at Molly's right now, waiting for you to come home. You've got to get to them, Hermione. Ron will be there soon, I promise!" Hermione looked again into Harry's eyes. She swallowed hard, and nodded her head in resolved determination.

"Bring him back to me, Harry." She whispered, and Harry gave her brief, tight hug.

She rose again, and took the floo powder Harry offered her from the communal box next to the fireplace. _I love you, Ron. I'll see you soon,_ she thought to herself as she threw the powder, stepped in, and yelled, "The burrow!"

Images of Rose and Hugo filled her mind as she closed her eyes, waiting for the spinning to stop.


	14. Chapter 14

**I don't own Harry Potter not any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

 **I really want to thank everyone for your reviews and support** **and don't worry! James and Lily will be here** _ **very**_ **soon.**

Chapter 14: The Bearers of Bad News

Hermione yelped as the ground rushed up to meet her. She lay on the floor, sobbing, as she heard footsteps come from the other room. "MUM!" squealed two voices, and she raised herself just enough to collide with her two children. She continued to cry as she held them firmly against her. "Mum! What's wrong? Why are you crying?" Hugo asked innocently, not used to seeing his mother in such a state.

"Oh goodness! Hermione, dear, you're hurt! Move aside children, let me see." Molly raised Hermione carefully from the ground and set her on the sofa, tutting as she looked at the large bruise nearly forcing Hermione's left eye shut. "Rose, dear, get my medical kit, please." She ordered, and Rose disappeared into the kitchen, passing Albus and Lily on her way. This time, it was Harry's children who sat on the outskirts, watching as their cousin's parent was treated for injuries.

"Dear, what happened?" Molly entreated as she performed a diagnostic spell. "You've a concussion, several cuts, and some broken ribs. You're lucky I have some skelegrow left over from the last time the children fell off a broom." Molly fussed, worry showing on her face. It was obvious she wanted to ask more, but was visibly restraining herself.

Hermione continued to hold Hugo's hand like a lifeline as she turned to look Molly in the eye.

"Molly. Something… Something has –" At this point she took a deep breath, as if preparing for the plunge. "Voldemort, Molly. Voldemort is back. He destroyed the ministry, and Harry – Harry was there, and he's supposed to bring Ron back to me. I don't know where he is, Molly! Harry promised!" Sobs wracked Hermione's body once again as she buried her face in her hands.

Molly paled, her lips thinning. She wiped a tear quickly from her own eye before engulfing her daughter-in-law in another hug, holding her as she cried. "Get me some tea, Hugo please, your mother needs to take her potion." Hugo nodded, frightened at his mother's words, but eager to help. His brown curls flopped as he nodded his head and rose to fetch the tea.

Molly performed some rudimentary healing spells on Hermione's cuts and bruises. She lifted Hermione's blouse slightly to reveal Hermione's ribcage. "Ferula" she said, casting bandages from her wand. Hermione groaned as the bandages tightened around her torso, and took the cup of skelegrow and tea gratefully.

"Alright, dear. You just rest a moment while we wait. Ron and Harry… and Arthur… will be along shortly, and then we can go meet Ginny at Muriel's. She's gone to collect the other children at Hogwarts. I've sent messages to the rest of the kids, and soon we can set up a Fidelius charm."

Hermione nodded, drying her eyes on a handkerchief Rose had brought her.

A pop was heard suddenly from the front yard. Molly and Hermione both jumped to their feet, wands at the ready. "Children, come to me, quickly." Hermione called. Molly stepped through to the kitchen, searching through the window into the front yard to see who had appeared.

Suddenly, the door swung open wildly, and Molly cried out, a spell on the tip of her tongue, only to be stopped mid-word as relief washed through her being.

"Arthur." She said his name almost like a sigh, rushing into his embrace.

"Molly, dear. I'm fine, it's all going to be alright." Arthur cooed, comforting her as she began to shake with sobs. Hermione and the children emerged from the living room. Arthur looked at his daughter-in-law and withdrew from Molly's hug. He looked at Hermione apprehensively, and made as if to say something but no sound came out.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. After a few moments of tension, she final blurted out, "Ron? Is he with you? Did you see him?" Arthur cleared his throat nervously before finally answering quietly.

"No. He's at St. Mungo's with Harry. He came face to face with Voldemort. I don't know the extent of his injuries yet, I'm afraid." To the surprise of those gathered, instead of breaking into sobs like before, Hermione's face remained dry. She clenched her jaw, and her gaze was unflinching.

"Molly, Arthur, take the children to Muriel's. I am going to find my husband."

Turning to her children, Hermione enveloped them in another hug, and whispered love and comfort before striding through the door, calling over her shoulder, "I will send word once I've found him and give you a time for when to expect our arrival." And with a _pop!_ she was gone.

…

Ginny thanked Professor Flitwick as he opened the front gates, allowing her entrance to Hogwarts. She left him behind quickly as she rushed through the front door, running headlong into the great hall. It was nearly dinner time, and most of the students were making their way there now. She scanned the crowd, looking for the familiar messy, black hair, or the bright turquoise of her godson.

"Mum! What are you doing here?" James suddenly crowed, appearing in front of her. Her eyes met his and she swallowed loudly before answering. "James, dear, I need you to get your things right away, and meet me in Headmistress McGonagall's office immediately. Something has happened, and I will explain it to you later. Find Teddy, and your cousins, and tell them the same. We are all leaving." Ginny told her son with the authority of a mother who was not to be questioned.

James' surprise was apparent, but he didn't argue. He disappeared into the crowd, and Ginny sighed heavily, rubbing her head with her fingers as if to ward off an impending headache.

Professor McGonagall suddenly appeared on her right, making Ginny jump. "Professor! I was just coming to see you!"

"And what, pray, brought you so quickly and in such a state?" McGonagall asked, looking Ginny up and down and observing her untidy and stressed demeanor.

"Something's happened, Professor! My family and I are leaving immediately." McGonagall raised her eyebrows in bewilderment.

"Something has happened, indeed, though how you found out is beyond me. I was just on my way to send a message to inform you of the predicament."

Ginny frowned in confusion. "Professor, I am not talking about some prank or other ridiculous thing one of my sons has done."

McGonagall's lips thinned slightly at the show of rudeness, but she seemed to let it slide as her expression turned to one of puzzlement. "I assure you, Mrs. Potter, your sons ridiculous behavior has nothing to do with that I was planning on telling you. Due to this response, I am led to believe we are not speaking of the same situation." She remarked.

"Professor, forgive my rudeness, but whatever it is, I doubt it is more important than what I have to tell you."

"I sincerely doubt that." McGonagall cut her off, and opened her mouth as if to continue. Suddenly, she seemed to be at a loss for words. At Ginny's expectant expression, McGonagall finally said the last thing Ginny ever expected to hear.


	15. Chapter 15

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 15: Priori Incantatem

Ginny stared at the couple in front her, frozen in shock. _How? How is this possible?_ Ginny's mind whirred with the implications when she heard someone cough nervously. She blinked again. _It was him. He coughed! How is he even able to do that?_

James Potter coughed again, and asked cautiously, "So, you're saying that this is our son's wife? And that we've been dead for 33 years? Are we _sure_ no one has been confunded? Because honestly it sounds a little bit too imaginary if you ask me." James grinned slightly, as if expecting someone to chuckle and admit he was right, and this had all been some elaborate prank.

"I assure you, Mr. Potter, this is no prank, no trick, and _not_ imaginary. This is very real, and soon your grandchildren will be arriving and my school is not an inn for random resurrected couples. You will be going with them to their home, where undoubtedly there will be much to talk about."

"WHAT? They're coming home with me? But what will Harry say? You can't expect him to take this well! After everything he has been through, what if they disappear again? What if this is only temporary!?" Ginny started, drawn abruptly from her own musings.

McGonagall was about to reply when another cough was heard, this one coming from above and behind.

"Excuse me, if I might add something?" Dumbledore asked politely.

"Wait, you're DEAD!?" James cried, not having bothered to properly look around the room earlier. He was quickly cut off by Lily's " _SHUSH!"_

"Yes, I am afraid so. As are many whom you once knew, I'm sorry to say. Now, if I may continue uninterrupted?" Dumbledore gave a stern, pointed look at James who seemed about to explode with questions. James shut his mouth with a clack and nodded, abashed. "Thank you. I only wish to ask Mrs. Potter why she came in the first place. It is obvious she had no idea of this occurrence, and came to collect her children due to some sort of emergency. I believe what she has to say may very well shed some light on why this has occurred."

Ginny's eyes widened as she realized she had completely forgotten! She turned her back to the Potters and McGonagall, looking Dumbledore in the eyes. "It's Voldemort. He's back. He too was resurrected mere hours ago in the department of mysteries. They used the stone and the veil, professor. That's all I know. Harry's gone to confront him at the ministry."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and his once twinkling eyes flashed as he contemplated the implications of what Ginny had just said. He steepled his fingers and closed his eyes, lost in thought for a moment.

"Merlin's bloody bollucks." Ginny jumped at McGonagall's language and let out a shocked chuckle to see her former professor collapsed in a chair, before turning her gaze back to Dumbledore. His eyes had opened again, and he was nudging the man in the portrait beside him.

"Severus, I have a theory I would like to discuss with you." Snape refused to budge, and instead turned his back on them all, seemin to be pretend not to notice Dumbledore's attempts. Dumbledore elbowed Snape hard, forcing the man to huff and visibly cross his arms in defiance before replying,

"I can hear you perfectly fine the way I am. Just share you damn theory! It's undoubtedly correct and does not require any input of my own, anyway." Snape growled. He refused to turn around, and instead yelped as Dumbledore elbowed him again with what were most certainly very thin and sharp elbows.

" _Sev? You became headmaster?_ But the last time I heard you had joined the deatheaters!" Lily gasped. Snape flinched and almost turned to face his once-best-friend before growling again and resolutely hunching his shoulders.

Dumbledore smiled before looking at Lily and James again. "A former deatheater makes an immensely useful spy, though. In addition to that skill, Severus also possesses an incredible amount of knowledge regarding the deathly hallows, as well as the gateway between life and death, of which we are speaking." Dumbledore looked sideways at his colleague once again, amused. "I speak to Ginny specifically, and I am sure she will be able to explain the hallows to you once you've returned home if you don't already know about them." Lily looked disappointed and James grimaced as they listened to Dumbledore continue.

"It is my belief that the stone acted in a similar way to the priori incantatem, meaning it not only returned Lord Voldemort, but also those whom it last called forth. In this case, it was whomever Harry called forward the last time he used the stone."

"Priori Incantatem? You mean what happened between Potter and Voldemort in the graveyard that dreadful night? The spell that summoned Voldemort's previous victims?" McGonagall asked, awestruck.

"Exactly. What with the stone being a summoner from death to life, and the veil being the gateway from life to death, I believe it likely these two _brothers,_ of sorts, would result in a similar reaction as Voldemort's and Harry's brother wands."

"But then, wouldn't Sirius and Remus have returned also?" Ginny asked hesitantly.

"Ah, do we know that they haven't?" Dumbledore asked honestly.

"Of course they haven't, you old fool." Snape suddenly uttered, looking sideways at his old headmaster, his back still turned to the room. "Those men used both the stone _and_ the veil, and the Dark Lord was the subject of their magic. Neither Black's nor Lupin's spirits were sent through the veil as a result of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; therefore, why should they have any connection to him in death? No, only those who have been called forward previously by the resurrection stone, _and_ were sent through the veil as a result of the Dark Lord _himself_ would have any chance of rising with him. In this case, only Lily and James Potter."

Dumbledore smiled as if proud of a pupil achieving some especially difficult mark on a quiz. Snape rolled his eyes, growling, "You already knew this, of course. You just wanted to goad me into talking because I can't pass up the chance to correct you."

Dumbledore chuckled innocently. "Well, at least your agreement confirms my own suspicions. Thank you, Severus, it makes perfect sense to me as well."

The room was silent once again, each deep in their own thoughts.

Suddenly, a commotion was heard outside the office as many feet were heard pounding up the spiral staircase, ending in sharp raps on the office door. "Come in!" McGonagall called, and James and Lily's eyes widened as half a dozen Hogwarts students piled into the room, all dragging their trunks. They immediately began bombarding Ginny with questions:

"Aunt Ginny, what's going on? Why are we leaving?"

"Will we be back in time for testing?"

"Ginny, has something happened to Harry?"

Ginny cleared her throat and called for silence.

"Mum, Dad… wait. You're not Dad. Does dad have a brother I didn't know about? Do I seriously have _another_ aunt and uncle!?" James burst out, incredulous.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "No, this is, um… his name is also… argh, just, wait until we get home and I'll explain everything." Agitated, Ginny looked to the bewildered couple, "These are a few of the many children in the family. My Son, James, who is in first year; my Godson Teddy Lupin, who is in seventh year; Victoire Weasley, my eldest brother's daughter in sixth, her sister Dominique in third, and another of my brother's daughters Lucy, also in third, and Fred Weasley, who is in first with James. I am the youngest of what is now five older brothers." Turning to the children, Ginny ordered, "Get into the floo: we are going to Muriel's. I will explain everything once we arrive, and _no questions until then, please."_

Again, the authority emitted by Ginny begged no questions, just action. Soon, only Teddy remained behind. He stood on the threshold of the fireplace and hesitated, looking back at the couple.

"I know who you are." He began. "I recognize you from your photos. I don't know how this is possible, but don't think you can fool us by saying you're someone you're not. Don't even try, because I've seen Harry's memories, and it wouldn't be the first time something like this has happened." Teddy hesitated again, and smiled slightly. "I don't know how you're not ghosts or mere images, but I do know that he'll be glad to see you. It's nice to meet you, Lily and James. I'll see you at Muriel's." And with a relaxed grin, Teddy too was gone in a flash of ash and soot, leaving the remaining adults stunned.

"Teddy Lupin, as in Remus' son?" James asked in awe.

"Yes. Remus and Nymphadora Tonks." Ginny replied, as if lost in memory as she looked at where her godson had disappeared, pride showing on her face. Then she strode forward, thanking McGonagall and nodding to Dumbledore's portrait as she entered the fireplace.

"MURIEL PREWETT'S!" Ginny cried, and she too was gone.

James and Lily followed, James entering first and calling out the destination. Lily stepped into the fireplace, stealing one last glance at her old friend's portrait. Severus Snape had turned around finally and was looking at her longingly, his lips slightly parted as if about to say something.

Lily raised her arm in a reluctant farewell. Snape returned the gesture with a small, wistful smile.

"Good bye, Lily." He whispered almost too quietly to hear. But he knew she heard as he saw her face light into a smile. He watched as she tossed the powder at her feet, and disappeared.

"Severus. You do know what this means, don't you?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Snape's expression turned to one of anguish as he whispered, "Yes. Yes, I do."

 **A/N: Dumbledore and Snape definitely know something we don't *wink wink***

 **Also, I hope that explanation made sense to you all. If it didn't, let me know and I'll post an explanation the next chapter.**


	16. Chapter 16

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 16: Allegiance

Harry's heart beat erratically as he paced the halls of St. Mungo's. The memory of looking at his best friend's face as he found him lying among the dead and dying haunted him, and he replayed it over and over in his head. Healers in their standard lime green robes rushed to and fro, many pushing stretchers filled with men and women – men and women whom Harry had led and protected and taught and relied on as they fought side by side; and now, his best friend since 11 years old was unconscious and possibly dying.

Harry angrily slammed his fist against the wall, feeling utterly useless. Ron had been placed in a corner of Spell Damage along with a dozen others who were all unconscious. They were showing no signs of bleeding or obvious wounds, and so were not considered immediately in danger. After running a few vital tests, Ron had been left alone to wake up on his own. Meanwhile, screams filled with agony could be heard all around, raising the hair along Harry's neck and arms and giving him waves of shivers.

"Mr. Potter?" a young hesitant voice interrupted Harry's inner tirade. "Mr. Potter, Hermione Granger-Weasley has just arrived and has asked to see you. She's waiting in the Spell Damage ward." Harry thanked the young intern and began making his way back to Spell Damage. He prepared himself, taking gulps of air as he rounded the corner and located his other best friend sitting at Ron's bedside. Her face was blotchy, but full of the same strength that has always been there throughout everything. She had Ron's limp hand clutched in her right, while her left hand ran its fingers through his thinning red hair.

"How is he?" Harry began. He was suddenly engulfed in a mass of brown bushy hair and the air was squeezed out of him. They remained in their hug for a few moments before Hermione pulled away and returned to her seat. Conjuring his own, Harry sat beside her.

"He's going to be alright. The healers just informed me while you were running the halls." Hermione struggled to blink back tears as she continued. "Apparently, Ron was hit by the cruciatus curse. It was short, but powerful. Voldemort was in a hurry after all," Hermione said sarcastically. "The curse made Ron black out pretty quickly. Voldemort would have killed him, but another worker by the name of Mr. Ferry blasted Ron out of the way of the killing curse, effectively knocking him out even further, and giving him quite the concussion. On top of that, his lungs took in quite a bit of smoke so his throat will be a bit scratchy for a few days."

Harry sighed in relief. "The cruciatus is incredibly painful, but other than some twitching and soreness, he should be fine. And how about you? You took quite the beating at the ministry as well." Harry remarked. Hermione shrugged before responding,

"Oh, it's nothing. My ribs are on the mend thanks to Molly, and I've a few cuts and bruises. Have you received any treatment for your injuries? You look terrible, Harry." Harry was covered in soot and bruises, and his wrists were still bloody, though the wounds seemed to be healing. Hermione could see bandages peeking out from beneath his t-shirt, and his clothes were covered in holes. Harry laughed quietly.

"Yeah, a healer forced me into submission just enough to bandage my shoulder and force some potions down my throat. I'll be fine." They chatted for a short while, Hermione confirming that the family was gathering at Muriel's and that Ginny had already left for Hogwarts by the time she had arrived from the ministry. They decided to take Ron there the moment he woke up, as the fidelius charm needed to be done as soon as possible.

"Harry?" Percy Weasley had appeared at their side, his horn-rimmed glasses slightly bent and his normally immaculate hair and robes significantly disheveled. He interrupted them apologetically, "I'm sorry to disturb, but a message has just been received from Minister Shacklebolt. He requests your presence immediately." Harry nodded in assent, and followed his brother-in-law to a closed off room attached to spell damage.

As he passed by each bed, he recognized many; his own aurors and others he had worked with, or fellow Hogwarts students. He had to avert his eyes as he saw many beds with the sheets drawn over the faces of the deceased. There hadn't been a massacre like this since the war, and Harry felt nauseous as images of the second battle of Hogwarts flashed across his mind; the dead lined up in the great hall, the injured lying on stretchers waiting for help to arrive. At least this time, there were far less casualties.

Harry forced himself back to the present, answering Percy's hasty questions regarding his younger brother's welfare. Percy knocked on a door at the far end of the ward, and they were allowed entrance. Kingsley Shacklebolt sat at one end of a long table, filled with many heads of departments and advisors. They seemed to be in an uproar, many standing and pointing at one another in argument. Yelling instantly turned to silence as Harry entered the room. McClaggen pulled out a chair for him as he sat, feeling suddenly self-conscious as the witches and wizards continued to stare. Kingsley cleared his throat, sounding oddly loud in the tense silence.

"Harry, we're glad to see you're back. We expended all our resources to find you." Harry nodded in appreciation and allowed Kingsley to continue uninterrupted. "We have to know Harry: where have you been? We would be very naïve to assume you were not somehow involved in this new resurrection of Lord Voldemort." At Harry's incredulous expression, Kingsley hastily added, "We don't mean _involved,_ I mean, we don't hold you responsible! We only want to know how this came to be."

"YOU SAID YOU KILLED HIM!" suddenly echoed amongst the gathered. "How are we supposed to believe you _didn't_ have something to do with this!?" Uproar once again ensued as people began taking sides.

"So-called _savior_ is nothing but a liar!"

"Harry had nothing to do with this! I was there! I saw Harry kill You-Know-Who at Hogwarts!"

"Well, maybe Rita Skeeter has been right all along, and he's been in league with the bastard the whole time!"

"He's been planning this since the beginning!" The shouting continued as Harry listened on in silence, fury coursing through every fiber of his being.

"ENOUGH!" Kingsley bellowed, standing in anger. Harry also stood, his face filled with rage, his fists clenched and knuckles turning white. " _Enough._ I do not believe Harry ever meant for this to happen, nor do I believe he had anything to do with it. I too was at the battle of Hogwarts, as you all know, and I witnessed Lord Voldemort's demise; his demise at the hand of one of the greatest men I know! I trust him completely. I only ask for an explanation of his whereabouts so as to better understand how this happened, and how we can defeat this monster once and for all." Hush followed this speech, and Kingsley took his seat once again.

Harry remained standing, and forced his breathing to calm. "Voldemort murdered my parents, and tried time and again to kill me. He killed me friends, my family, my mentors, and we have all suffered at his hand in some way or another.

Two days ago I was captured by a band called _the Risen Followers._ They forced me to take veriterserum and extracted from me key information regarding the defeat of Voldemort 17 years ago. Using that information, and some incredibly powerful magical objects, including the Veil at the Department of Mysteries, they were able to raise Voldemort from the dead. I fought him and his followers, and I barely escaped with my life.

As you all saw, Voldemort is back, but he is _not_ as powerful. We have a better chance in defeating him than the last time." At this Harry took a deep breath, as if preparing for a deep plunge. "The last time, he was able to take certain precautions to ensure his immortality by creating something called horcruxes." A couple gasps were heard among the crowd, but as Harry looked on he saw mostly confused faces. He was relieved to know this certain type of dark magic had remained relatively unknown to the majority, even among the leaders of the British wizarding community. He cleared his throat and continued.

"17 years ago, with the help of Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley, I was able to track down and destroy every last tie that Voldemort had to life. Without those horcruxes, when his own killing curse rebounded against him at our last duel, he did indeed die.

We don't have much time. I imagine he is planning on recreating horcruxes now that he's back, or discovering some other method to ensure his immortality. It requires a very dark process, including the murders of many people. If we are to destroy him, we _must_ work together to ensure he _does not succeed!"_ Harry's anger returned as he clenched his jaw. _"_ So, stop blaming _me_ that he's back. I never wanted any of this, and all I have ever done is fight for _you,_ you ungrateful cowards. Get out from under your desks, stop hiding behind others who are willing to fight for what they believe in, and instead stand up and do something most of you were too weak to do last time!" Harry was nearly shouting by the end of his speech, anger and defiance in every note.

The table was stunned into silence for a long moment as those gathered pondered on the implications of the challenge that Harry had just extended to them. And it was exactly that: a challenge. One by one, Harry stared down each person in the room. Angry faces turned to shame and they quickly dropped their gaze, and glares turned to looks of respect and admiration at the audacity of Harry's statements. Having finished his piece, Harry went to sit back down. Suddenly, Kingsley Shacklebolt stood and motioned for Harry to remain standing.

"So many years ago, you were a symbol that gave us hope throughout Voldemort's last reign of terror. Just as before, I will gladly follow you into battle. I trusted you then, Harry, and I trust you now." Drawing his wand, Kingsley extended it, handle towards Harry in a gesture of salute and allegiance. "As Minister of Magic, I will stand beside you as I once did, and we once again face our greatest enemy."

Harry was stunned, not knowing what to say. Suddenly, he jumped as a shout of "HEAR HEAR!" was sounded, followed by yells of support. First a few, and then every last member stood on their feet and extended their wands in a show of allegiance.

Harry's face turned red at the unexpected praise and admiration, but couldn't help but smile and nod to each face in gratitude. He realized his rousing sermon had inspired everyone present to band together. After 17 years of striving to re-build and unify the wizarding world after the war, Harry felt liberated to see it happen at last.


	17. Chapter 17

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

 **Also…. For any that had confusion, it's not just anyone who was killed by Voldemort who returns – that would be a LONG list. As Snape explains in chapter 15, it is anyone who was killed by Voldemort (sent through the veil of death, same thing) AND was last brought forth by the Resurrection Stone. Snape was killed by Voldemort, along with Mad-Eye and many others, but they were never called forward from the grave using the stone. The last one to use it was Harry in the Forbidden Forest on his way to die. He wanted Lily, James, Sirius, and Remus to be with him, so they constitute the last ones brought forth by the stone. Only James and Lily were killed by Voldemort AND called by the stone, therefore they are the only ones to return. It was an unforeseen side effect of Ollivander choosing to use both the veil and the stone.**

 **Sorry if it was confusing, I tried my best.**

Chapter 17: The Fortress

Fog drifted thickly over rocky sea cliffs as Voldemort neared his destination. The grim fortress loomed from the darkness, sinister and foreboding. "For the Greater Good" shone brightly in the moonlight as Voldemort neared the tower, wind whipping his robes and ringing in his ears. The tower was a bit farther from civilization than he would have preferred, but in the current circumstances he was forced to make such arrangements.

Henrick Ollivander strode behind his master, grinning maniacally as if Christmas had come early. Voldemort stopped short at the front gate, gazing up as if lost in some dream. "The last time I was here, I murdered a man whom I once admired greatly; revered him, even. Do you know what this place is, Ollivander?"

"Yes, my Lord. A fortress worthy of your enemies." He replied. Voldemort chuckled humorlessly.

"Perhaps later. For now, it will have to be worthy of our presence. Until I have retaken the wizarding world, it is here where I will make my home." Voldemort pulled out his bone-white wand and blasted the gate, which flew open with an almighty groan. The Dark Lord strode through to the front door, and caressed the entrance lovingly.

"Nurmengard, the last home of the dark wizard Grindewald." He whispered. "When I first learned of him, I had just entered Hogwarts. He was powerful, and the most feared wizard in known history. I was fascinated by him and his ideals – the superiority of wizard-kind being chief among his beliefs. That muggle-loving fool Dumbledore always strove to teach us contrary, and tried to convince his pupils from joining his enemy. He was often unsuccessful." Voldemort pushed open the door and stepped into the darkness, lighting the torches along the way with a flick of his wand.

"At first, I wanted to be just like him; but then, I discovered I could be even better. That's what I've become." Voldemort began climbing the stairs, barely giving the bottom floor a glance.

The five remaining men from the ministry followed behind, mouths agape and eyes wide as they entered. The tower was cold, made of large stones and mortar. The corners were dark, as if hiding the secrets of the pain and torture that had taken place here. The bottom floor held a few rooms, seemingly meant for the guards who kept Grindewald's enemies.

They were hesitant to climb the stairs and follow Voldemort and Ollivander further, but Grey motioned for them to continue up, passing levels and levels of floors filled with cells. The doors were windowless, with only a small flap at the bottom to allow food and water. Most of them were left closed, but as they peered into the darkness they spied a few open cells, giving view to equally windowless rooms, with only a stone bed and a thin blanket in each.

As they reached the top, they entered the last and largest cell. This too had a stone bed and a thin blanket; however, unlike the others, it contained an open window through which the rising moon shone brightly. Voldemort stood at the window, looking at a spot at the foot of the bed.

"Here is where I murdered Gellert Grindewald. It was easy to extract the information I desired, and easier still to take his life." Voldemort was silent for a moment longer, lost in thought. Finally, he rose his head and looked at his small band of followers. "This will be my quarters. If there is nothing else, I wish to be left alone to plan. I must rebuild my army."

"Not you Ollivander. I require your assistance." Voldemort snapped as the men turned to leave. Ollivander smiled in pleasure and returned to his master's side.

"How many others knew of your plan to raise me from beyond the veil?" he asked. Ollivander's smile grew wider as he came even closer to the subject of his worship.

"Only those who were with us in the death chamber knew the exact details; however, I have spent years convincing many of our cause. Plenty of witches and wizards were more than angry at your defeat, my Lord. They came flocking to my call. I could have them here in a matter of hours should you desire."

Voldemort faced Ollivander, satisfaction showing in his gaze. "You truly are my most loyal." He remarked. "Yes, bring them here. I wish to make them my own. Also, send word to my followers from the past. I would have them come immediately and explain their whereabouts and doings. If I am not satisfied, they will pay the consequences."

"Yes, my Lord. And what of those who are in prison?" Ollivander asked.

"They will have their reward."

Ollivander turned to leave when he was once again called back.

"Yes, my Lord?" he asked again, eager to please.

"I have one last order. I want you to send the men to Potter's home. Kill anyone you find there, man, woman, or child. And be sure to burn the house to the ground."

 **This is the shortest chapter I've had yet. I'm sorry! But don't worry the next chapter will be wayyyy better!**

 **P.S thank you so much for all your support and reviews! Especially those who have commented multiple times – wow! Thank you! I hope I don't disappoint**


	18. Chapter 18

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 18: Theodore Nott

As the morning light crested the surrounding hills, Theodore Nott began his short walk towards the mansion, eyebrows creased in apprehension. It had been so many years since his dark mark had been anything more than a faded scar. Now, it was black as ink, which could only mean one thing.

Theodore could still remember the night he received the dark mark, at only 17 years old. He was one of many 7th year students to receive it. Voldemort had completely taken over the wizarding world before school even started, and by Christmas break even the Order of the Phoenix was fighting back less and less. Most had gone into hiding, and the rest were under such strict observation there was no use in trying anything without risking their family's safety.

Theodore would later realize it wasn't so much because Voldemort trusted a bunch of naïve 17-year-old children, but because, like in the case of Draco Malfoy, it punished their families and kept them in check.

It was a cold January night; the night before they would all return to Hogwarts for the second semester. His father had called him to the hallway and declared they were leaving for Malfoy Mansion.

"Why father?" he asked innocently. He had never been called there before. He doubted it was at the invitation of Draco; they weren't exactly friends, only fellow Slytherins and children of deatheaters. The extent of their relationship extended to sitting in silence while their fathers finished meetings, or their hatred of Harry Potter when he caused their fathers to be sent to Azkaban.

"The Dark Lord requires your attendance."

Theodore froze, eyes widening in fear and ice filling his veins. He shook his head, stuttering, "But, but f-f-father, w-why? What use c-could he have f-f-f-for _me?"_

He didn't even see it coming. The backhand to the face sent his eyes watering and his ears ringing. Theodore gasped and staggered back, raising his hands to protect himself. _Why didn't I see that coming?_ He thought angrily.

"The Dark Lord requests it, and you don't ask questions! Now stop your stuttering! It only shows weakness, and I'll not have you speaking that way in front of _him."_ His father growled, disappointment underlying his tone.

Theodore nodded minutely, ashamed. He hadn't stuttered in a long time, and he hardly ever did it at school. Of course, he talked so little in school he doubted anyone would have noticed, anyway. By now, it was only when he was agitated or scared; during moments like this, for example. .

His father motioned for him to proceed him to the floo. When he finished spinning, Theodore stumbled into a large and spacious welcoming foyer. A small man with graying tufts of hair and a face like a rat motioned for him and his father to follow down a long hallway, lined with torches. Theodore glanced curiously at the many doors, other hallways, and even stairs that ran off the main hallway, and huffed in disbelief. He knew Draco was rich, but this was bordering ridiculous.

As they neared the end, cold seemed to seep into his bones and a shiver ran along his spine. Theodore had never met You-Know-Who in person, but his father had told him many stories. He was scared, and focused on the little man in front of him as he led them to a large door.

The small man knocked tentatively, and the door was swung open to reveal a grand dining room. The table had been shoved to the end of the room, and there were about a dozen men inside. Each deatheater wore black robes, and were wearing their masks. Among the gathered deatheaters, Theodore could also spot other students in his year. They, like him, seemed slightly confused and nervous.

Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe, however, didn't seem nervous at all. They stood in the center of the room with two large deatheaters, who were undoubtedly their fathers, making quite the impression due to their vastness and large statures. Malicious grins were on each of their faces as they observed the newcomers. Quentin Urquhart was also visible, as well as Antoine Avery. Theodore felt his father grasp his shoulder tightly and steer him into a corner. Theodore jumped to notice his father was now also wearing a mask, and seemed to be waiting for something.

Millicent Bulstrode was the next to stride in, and her piggy eyes and face accompanied by a fierce and determined expression only added to her ugly demeanor, as well as the twins Hestia and Flora Carrow. Amycus and Alecto Carrow accompanied their nieces, placing their masks on hastily as they found a corner to wait.

Theodore was confused. Hestia and Flora, like him, seemed absolutely terrified; as if this was the last place they wanted to be. Like his father had forced him, he imagined many of his classmates had been forced to come here.

Finally, the door swung open to reveal the Dark Lord himself.

Theodore's stomach filled with dread at the sight. He'd often questioned his father's decsion to follow such a man: no, not a man, a monster. Every nightmare and every story had not done him justice; the pale skin, the red eyes, the skeletal figure, visible even despite the black robes he wore. When he spoke, it was in hisses like a snake, and Theodore shuddered to realize the man really was more snakelike than human.

A line of more deatheaters followed behind their master, heads bowed. They quickly spread into a circle, hastening to their assigned spots and dragging the children to stand in front of them. Voldemort stood in the center, and one by one he looked each student in the eye, whispering their name. Sometimes he smiled in pleasure, other times he frowned in disappointment.

Finally, it was Theodore's turn. His father gripped his shoulders tightly from behind; so tight it was painful. The dark wizard met his gaze and stared deep into his eyes; it was as if his every thought and the fear he was feeling was suddenly on display. Anger flashed in Voldemort's eyes as he hissed, "Theodore Nott." At long last, Theodore flinched and his gaze fell to the floor, breaking the eye contact. Voldemort moved on until each student had been examined.

Ending with Avery, Voldemort strode to the center again, and raised his arms. "Welcome, my new deatheaters. Welcome to the beginning of the rest of your lives." Voldemort spoke triumphantly, pride as well as condescension dripping from every syllable. "Tonight, I mark you as one of my own, and you will return to your school as a loyal disciple of Lord Voldemort. After tonight, you become one of _usssssss."_ Theodore shuddered anew, realization finally dawning. _I'm not just here for some meeting, I am here to be marked! My father brought me here to become a death eater!_

Utter terror filled his entire being as this thought hit him full force. _Why am I even surprised? Haven't I been expecting this for a long time, now? Isn't this what I want?_ He contemplated, beginning to panic. He had been taught the ideals and methods of Lord Voldemort since he was a child; the significance of blood status and the importance of strength and power, especially when it came to lording it over the weak. Yes, he had been taught it. But did he truly believe it? Did he truly believe that muggles and mudbloods were nothing more than dogs, worthy of being tortured and beaten into the dust? Maybe not as vehemently as his father seemed to think.

Theodore continued to ponder, watching in horror as Voldemort's wand was brought down on Crabbe's exposed forearm, and the smell of burning flesh hit his nostrils. Crabbe whimpered only slightly, but stayed quiet for the most part. Voldemort moved on to the next student, and Theodore's panicked thoughts continued to whir in his head, sweat beading his brow.

Was his belief strong enough to endure this? Did his hatred of muggleborns and lesser creatures run this deep? Was his pure-blood status really what made him superior? In Theodores opinion, if his father could see the joy and satisfaction in beating his own son, and driving his own wife away, he would find joy in proving his superiority to _any_ creature, regardless of blood purity. From the perspective of a young kid lying on the floor after a particularly harsh blow, Theodore struggled to see the difference between himself and the house elf who was also beaten, or himself and any other being his father found worthy to crush under his boot.

Yes, from the young perspective of a child, crying alone because he wasn't strong enough to protect himself, or wasn't good enough for his father's approval, he found himself relating more than a little to other beings left at the mercy of more powerful wizards. He related to muggles, even, when he watched his father and his friends dangle a family helplessly in the air his fourth year during the world cup, shaming them and laughing at their pain and terror. His father had laughed more than once at Theodore's pain, after all.

Theodore realized in that moment that no, he did not believe all that his father had taught him. He wasn't yet sure what was _right_ , but he knew this wasn't it. To force someone to enter the service of a madman was not right at all.

Theodore was abruptly drawn from his thoughts by a bloodcurdling scream. On his right, Hestia Carrow was being held upright by one of the deatheaters behind her, and she was struggling frantically. Her sleeve was rolled up, but her arm remained unmarked.

Voldemort removed his wand, and reached forward with his other hand, gripping her chin harshly. She stopped struggling and froze, pupils dilating in fear and her breaths coming in quick gasps. "Do you wish to be here, little girl?" He asked her in a kind voice. His grip softened and his face showed compassion somehow. "Do you wish to leave?"

"Yes, please. I mean, yes, my Lord. I don't want this." Hestia replied, hope filling her eyes.

"Of course, my dear. Release her, Amycus." Voldemort ordered, his voice still dripping sympathy. Hestia nearly dropped to the floor in relief, and made to turn her back on the circle towards the door.

" _Crucio!"_ Voldemort growled, disgust and anger layering his tone now. Theodore's eyes widened at the sudden change, and his breath caught as he watched Hestia writhe and scream on the floor. Finally, Voldemort lifted the curse, leaving her sobbing on the ground.

"This, my young friends, is what will happen to anyone who is too weak to do what is necessary; too weak to pledge me their loyalty. And _this_ is what happens should you ever dare to defy or deny me. AVADA KEDAVRA!" he screeched, and the room was blinded by a flash of green light. Hestia lay on the floor, not moving.

Flora watched as her twin was murdered in front of her eyes. Voldemort stepped in front of her, hand outstretched for her forearm. Tears flowed out of Flora's eyes as she extended her arm. She received the dark mark without even a flinch. She was numb to the world, her eyes becoming glazed over and her face void of all emotion.

Voldemort continued down the line; Millicent, Urquhart, and then Theodore. As he thought back to that moment, he recalled with clarity the decision to do what Flora did; become numb, and accept that in order to survive, he must surrender. He knew this was wrong, but he also knew he wanted to live. So, he did, extending his left forearm as if someone else were pulling the strings in his body. He received the mark, gritting his teeth in pain and causing silent tears to escape as the brand was permanently embedded into his skin. He hated himself for being so weak; a coward, who refused to stand for what he believed. But could one fully regret the decision that saved their life?

Afterwards, when everyone had completed the ceremony, all masks were removed and congratulations were made as Voldemort swept from the room, leaving his deatheaters to celebrate without him. Theodore watched as Draco Malfoy removed his mask, and saw the same look on his face that he was sure mirrored his own: despair.

17 years later, Theodore knocked on a door and was admitted into the very house he had hoped he would never see again, and was taken to the very man whom he knew would share his own sentiments regarding the matter.

"Nott. It's been a long time."

"Malfoy." Theodore responded with a curt nod.


	19. Chapter 19

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 19: The Burning of Godric's Hollow

Arthur Weasley was rarely one to show worry. Was he worried? Yes, of course. His concern for all his children matched that of his wife, always; however, hysterics, crying, shouting, and the all-around passionate displays of emotion were never his way. He left that to his wife. No, for Arthur Weasley his stress was subtle, quiet.

On the sofa in the sitting room of the late Muriel Prewett, Arthur was leaned forward with hands clasped in front of him tightly, eyes staring intently at the floor. His mouth was set in a grim line, and his forehead was creased. If he were a religious man, he might appear to be praying to the outsider. But no. He was listening, and pondering deeply the consequences of what was happening around him.

The Weasley family, excepting Ron, Hermione, and Harry, were all gathered in the sitting room. There was a lot of yelling, accompanied by large, dramatic hand gestures and pointing fingers. Fear and confusion reigned supreme in the group, and made much worse by the presence of two very nervous figures standing with their backs to the wall.

"What do you mean Voldemort is back?"

"When Harry returns, he can explain everything! I barely understand it, myself!"

"Well what _can_ you tell us, then? And what do they have to do with Voldemort?"

"Why did only they come back? Maybe others are back, too!"

"Ginny, you can't just call us here and not expect us to want answers!"

"IT'S NOT MY PLACE TO SAY!" Ginny screamed, anger finally winning over her emotions. She huffed as the adults fell silent at last, leaving the many young babies and toddlers to continue crying in distress at their parents' outbursts. Everyone took a collective gasp to calm themselves, and eventually the last of the children finally relaxed. All stared at Ginny, expectantly.

"Look, I know it's a lot to take in right now. I'm still trying to take it in, myself! But Voldemort is back, and because of the ritual performed to do it, so are Harry's parents. _Only_ Harry's parents. Lily, James, I'm sorry that you have to meet my family in this state. The Weasley's red-headed emotions run high, and sometimes it's a bit hard to reign in, I'm afraid." Ginny stated apologetically.

"Believe me, it's not just your family of red-heads, it's all red-heads." James replied nonchalantly, brushing off the recent scene like it was an every-day occurrence. Lily glared at him, exasperated.

"James, really? How can you joke at a time like this?"

"Oh, sweetie, it's not a joke. I wish it was." James replied.

The group chuckled nervously, amused by their exchange. Suddenly, an otter appeared in the middle of the room, and Hermione's voice rang out, "Ron and I will be arriving shortly. Ron is okay, though he has a serious concussion and some other injuries. Please be prepared to perform the fidelius charm as soon as we arrive. See you soon!"

Silence followed the patronus, broken by a small voice. "What did Aunt Hermione mean only she and Uncle Ron will be arriving? What about Dad?" Albus asked petulantly.

Tension thick enough to slice filled the room as everyone's heads looked from James and Lily to the fireplace, a mix of excitement and apprehension showing on their faces as they watched for green sparks.

…..

"Ugh, I hate concussions mixed with dark spells." Ron grimaced as he nearly fell again, and was forced to put his whole weight on Hermione and Harry's shoulders. Hermione chuckled.

"We're almost there. Technically you shouldn't even be on your feet, but Harry pulled some strings and got you released early."

"Yeah, right, about that... Did I mention we really ought to go a bit faster? Because technically those _strings_ were cut short when I realized we still had a quidditch pitch of paperwork to fill out, and if we ever want to make it out of here we need to sharpen our sneaking skills."

" _What?_ He hasn't even been released?" Hermione hissed.

"Look, we've got a fidelius charm to perform, and a world to save, and I do not intend to let paperwork slow us down, alright?" Harry uttered, exasperated. Right on cue, medi-wizards were heard calling after them and Harry grinned conspiratorially, holding Ron more firmly and dragging him along.

"Hey! Wait! Mr. Weasley's final paperwork hasn't been filled out yet! He can't leave! _Wait!"_

"Alright there, Ron? Ready?" Harry asked before unceremoniously stuffing him into the fireplace. Hermione snorted and jumped in next.

"Tell them I'll be there soon!" Harry called. Hermione nodded, and Harry watched as Hermione and Ron disappeared, heading to Muriel's. He took a deep breath, and stepped in himself. "Godric's Hollow!" Harry cried. He still had one more task to accomplish.

…

Ron and Hermione laughed at their juvenile antics as they tumbled to the floor at Muriel's. It was like being in school again, running from filch. They continued to laugh as they took in the large group of red-heads in front of them, their laughter dying quickly as Ginny took lead in introducing the two new-comers.

"Oh bloody hell…" Ron said.

….

Harry stepped out of the fireplace, his chest filled with trepidation as he entered his home in Godric's Hollow. It was a large house, though not considered a mansion by any means. It was comfortable, and largely designed by Ginny herself. They had picked a large plot of land south of town, with trees and even a small pond much like the Weasley's, and they built their dream home from the ground up. Until now, Harry had never been so reluctant to enter its premises.

It had been a couple hours now since Voldemort had left the ministry, and evening had turned to night as the moon began to rise, visible through the windows. Harry had spent quite some time with the heads of departments making plans, and it had taken a while for Ron to wake up. Once he did and the healers assured them of his condition, Harry determined his next move would naturally be to rush to Muriel's to be with his family. Hermione, of course, reminded him that everyone would be expecting answers; a lot of answers.

Harry didn't want to give them those. No, it's not that he didn't _want to,_ he couldn't. He had made that decision so long ago; not to tell them about the hallows, and not to tell them about dying, either. At the time, Fred had just died and he didn't know how everyone's reaction would be! Surely, they would want the stone in order to see Fred again, and Harry knew it would lead to nothing but madness and hopelessness. His short but powerful experience with the stone, as well as the Mirror of Erised, had proven that much.

His other fear was if they knew he had died, they would want to know the details; they would want to know what it was like. He didn't want to talk about that. Not because it was a bad memory like with everything else, but because it was a good memory. He had never felt more at peace than when he was sitting there with Dumbledore. In a small, and slightly morbid way, he actually looked forward to the day when he would finally take that train and pass on – but not until his time, of course. He just knew now that death was nothing to be feared.

If Harry were to tell the Weasleys honestly, death was peaceful; so peaceful it could even be considered desirable for one who didn't have anything left to live for. At the time, they were worried enough that George would do something stupid; he was so alone, and desperate without his twin. It was a miracle they made it through those months without losing another brother. And Percy was almost as bad, so full of guilt and grief. Harry didn't want to give them any further motivation to give up than they already had.

These were the worries Harry was quick to remind them of as he, Ron, and Hermione discussed what they would or wouldn't be telling their family this time around. Ron surprised them both, however, when he made Harry realize that now was not 1998. They had had 17 years to deal with the death of their brother, and they had come a long way since then. George had eventually snapped out of it, with the significant help of Angelina, and their fear for him diminished until it disappeared completely. Now George was married, with two kids, Fred and Roxanne. And Percy…

Percy took years until he would stop apologizing at odd moments and finally accept their forgiveness. He struggled almost as much as George, though for different reasons. Luckily, he too had moved on and was married to Audrey, a muggle-born, and had two daughters, Lucy and Molly.

"Come on, Harry. You've got to give them some credit. They'll want answers, and we _have_ to give it to them. This time, I don't want to keep any secrets, and I especially don't think we have to fight this war on our own. Things will be different, and we can have _everyone_ on our side." Ron pleaded.

Harry had to admit Ron was right. So, they made a plan: they would do their best to answer all questions, and they would finally divulge the truth about the Deathly Hallows, even if it meant including Harry's death as well. But first, Harry had to retrieve the last things that would make it possible: the invisibility cloak, and the pensieve.

About a year after the war, Dumbledore's old pensieve was given to Harry as a gift. Aberforth didn't want it, McGonagall didn't need it, and though Harry was wary and confused at first, he had found it immensely useful. What he really loved about it was that he could place his most painful memories inside it. The pensieve didn't erase the memories from his own mind, but it left them more dulled and quiet, so their sharp sting wasn't always at the edge of his vision. He used it still, to look over his memories of statements taken by witnesses, interrogations, and interviews, and in the case of Teddy, he used it to show him memories of Remus and Tonks.

When Teddy had first realized that Harry wasn't his actual father, and when he was old enough to understand what death meant, and what it meant that he was an orphan, he felt very alone. Harry was quick to comfort and reassure him however, always reminding him of the love that he and Ginny held for Teddy, like he was their own son. But Harry also understood all too well the desire to know one's parents. So, Harry would tell Teddy stories of Remus and Tonks, and he even borrowed some memories from others concerning the couple. It helped a lot, and soon, Teddy was able to accept it and be at peace with it. Of course, Harry didn't replace what it would have been like had Teddy's parents survived the war, but he came close, and Harry and Teddy had as strong a bond and relationship as any parent and child.

When Teddy began attending Hogwarts, it was hard for him to be the Godson of the famous Harry Potter; especially since it seemed most of the wizarding world knew more about his godfather than he did! Harry didn't like talking about his past, or his part in the war. So, Teddy was forced to glean information from others; aunts and uncles, teachers, books, and even classmates. Finally, at 15 Teddy confronted Harry about it, and once again Harry used the pensieve to show his godson his memories; this time, his memories of his childhood and the war. Harry found it considerably easier to just show Teddy as opposed to telling him his past.

This was what he planned to do now. He would use the pensieve to explain everything to his family, and they would just have to accept it and forgive him for keeping so many secrets.

As Harry made his way upstairs to his office, he was acutely aware that his home was probably a target for Voldemort's followers right now. That's why it wasn't a surprise when he heard distinct popping sounds of multiple apparitions coming from his front lawn.

Harry felt the tingling sensation that accompanied a homenim revelio charm being cast on his house, and he knew there was no hiding. They had already detected his presence. "There he is!" one man yelled. Harry barely made it inside his office when he heard the hurried plodding of many feet on the staircase. He performed his locking jinxes and charms just in time, as the whole door trembled with the blows of bodies and hexes being slammed against it.

His office was just the way he had left it – a large, sturdy desk was set near the door, covered with pictures of his family and of his Hogwarts days. Shelves adorned the walls filled with books, subjects ranging from mostly the dark arts to transfiguration, herbology, and quidditch. There were even a few books based on very obscure forms of magic, many coming straight from Dumbledore's old collection. A grand oak cabinet rested on the far side, and the door was left slightly ajar, emitting a blue, eerie light from inside. Through the window on the opposite wall allowed moonlight to spill into the office, brightening the room enough for him to see.

Harry cursed and strode to his desk, pulling the silvery cloak from a hidden drawer near the bottom. He winced as flashes of light and more pounding reverberated around the room as he neared the cabinet containing the pensieve and multiple vials of memory. Taking it carefully so as not to spill any of the precious liquid inside, Harry performed a few protection spells and anti-spilling charms, and shrunk the pensieve to pocket size. Harry shook as a result of a particularly powerful blasting curse sent at the door, which was now beginning to crack and crumble.

Another tremble nearly caused him to lose his footing as the yelling and bellowing increased in volume. Harry turned to see that the door was nearly off its hinges, and one more blast like that would destroy it. Harry sent a mass retrieval spell at the cabinet, collecting all the vials at once into his magically enlarged briefcase he used when traveling for long periods of time.

BOOM!

The door was blown apart and crashed into the office, smashing into the opposite wall. The men tore inside, wands raised, only to see…. Nothing.

"Where'd he go? He can't've disapparated, can 'e?" One man growled.

"Nah. His own anti-apparition wards work against him this time; no apparating into his house means no apparating out either. He must be hiding, the coward." Grey answered. Harry recognized him, of course. He recognized nearly all of them as men who had been at the death chamber earlier that day. Harry slowed his breathing and crouched low in his invisibility cloak.

Harry flinched as the men began tearing apart his office. Family pictures were smashed, books were thrown carelessly to the floor, while his desk and shelves were upturned as they searched for where he might be hiding. A large man stood in the doorway, blocking any possible exit. Harry cursed silently, looking for another option.

Grey stopped his search as a thought suddenly occurred to him. His eyes went to the floor immediately as he thought aloud. "Wait, doesn't Potter own a…. THE WINDOW!" A large shadow that was recognizably human shaped had just appeared in the moonlight.

"FINESTRA!" Harry bellowed, and the window shattered. He had given away his position, and he grunted as he was knocked off his feet with a blasting jinx thrown haphazardly his way. Harry crashed into the windowsill, cutting his face on the shards of glass littering the sill and floor. Now partially revealed, Harry surrendered all pretenses and swept the cloak the rest of the way off him, while in the same fluid motion, pointing his wand at the open air left by the shattered window. "ACENDIO!" he cried, and shut his eyes in the rush of wind as he was thrown forward and out the window. He fell two stories, crumpling in a heap at the bottom. Groaning in pain, he struggled to his feet and barely escaped as jets of red, purple, and green light raced his way. Throwing the cloak back over himself, he disappeared from view.

The last thing he saw as he crossed the apparition point were his attackers, jeering as they burnt his home to the ground.


	20. Chapter 20

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 20: Reunion

Harry pounded on the front door to Muriel's. The door opened a crack, and the pale face of Bill Weasley was seen peering at him. Harry went to shove past him, but Bill held the door firm, not allowing entrance. "Bill, it's me, let me in!"

"When was the first time Harry Potter visited my home?" Bill demanded.

Harry stopped his struggle and chuckled darkly. "Wow, it's been a long time since we've felt the need to confirm out identities. I believe the first time I visited Shell Cottage was when Hermione, Ron, and I were on the run from Voldemort, just after escaping Malfoy Manor. Dobby brought us there, along with some friends." Harry replied, his voice slightly strained at the painful memory.

"Sorry Harry, you know I had to do it." Bill said apologetically, opening the door and letting Harry in. "You look awful, mate. What happened?"

"Oh the usual – run in with some of Voldemort's cronies. But I'm fine. Now where is everyone? Where's Ginny?" Harry asked.

"In the living room. Everyone's gathered together. We've all had, um, something of a shock today. I fear it's about to get worse…" he said as Harry strode past him. Harry entered the room and stepped into a sea of red hair and wide eyes.

Harry regarded his family with unease, and his eyes sought out those of his wife. "Oh, Harry! What happened? Are you alright!?" Ginny cried, hastening to his side from among the throng of Weasleys. Ginny cooed affectionately as she examined his cuts. Harry smiled at her gratefully, and gently nudged her aside.

"I'm fine, really. Is everyone else here? Are we missing anyone?" Harry entreated, his eyes glancing over the gathered distractedly. He couldn't focus on anyone's faces as his mind went right back to the scene he had left moments before – of his home being burned. How was he going to tell Ginny? James and Lily Potter made to step forward towards their son, but Arthur stood up from the sofa quickly and made his way across the room, motioning for them to wait.

"Harry, maybe you should sit down and let us have look at those injuries. You've obviously been through a lot in the past couple days, and that's just been added to the long list of questions we have for you. Also, we, um, have something to tell you." Arthur drew Harry to the sofa, and he gladly followed, collapsing into the cushions.

Harry's mind was blank as he thought of how he was going to explain everything that had happened in the last couple days. "Uh, right, look I know you all must have a lot of questions. Um…" Harry stuttered, not sure how to begin as Molly began running diagnostic tests and Ginny began producing bandages from her wand. Harry shooed them away, and began again to try and speak.

"Wait, Harry." Arthur ordered. Molly gave her husband indication that Harry's injuries were nothing serious and that he should continue. Harry was cut short, but he willingly shut his mouth, looking at his father-in-law expectantly. Arthur turned to someone in the group, and nodded approvingly. Harry followed his gaze and his breath caught, his eyes wide.

James and Lily Potter stood at the other end of the room, hands clasped and eyes shining with unshed tears. Joy shone on their faces, and suddenly Lily rushed forward, arms outstretched to embrace her son.

Without warning, she was shoved by a powerful force of energy, throwing her backwards. James caught her from behind, and together they felt themselves slam into the wall behind them. James held her tightly as her mind reeled to discover what had happened. Harry stood on his feet, his wand held out in front of him. A light blue, nearly transparent shield was held up between Lily and James and the rest of the room.

"What the Hell? Who are you! What is this!?" Harry demanded, his voice incredulous, with a mix of anger and desperation. Harry looked at everyone expectantly, his eyes locking with Ginny's again.

"Harry, calm down. You know who it is! Please, lower your wand, darling." Ginny implored, arms outstretched.

"I told you he wouldn't take it well. You own me a galleon." George crowed at Charlie, who shook his head at his brother's terrible timing.

"Shut up!" Ginny said angrily, rounding on her brother. Harry, however, had begun to lower his wand, his eyes shifting frantically again to the people around him and then back to his parents.

"Son, come on. It's us, your mum and dad! I know it's a lot to take in, I mean, imagine being told you'd been dead for 33 years! We're all experiencing shocking news today, apparently…" James entreated, palms held up in surrender. Lily for her part was only awestruck at the sight of her son.

"You look so much like your father." She said thickly.

Harry shook his head. "Who are you? Did Voldemort send you – is this some sick game he's playing? REVELIO!" Harry demanded, fury now evident in his tone.

Lily and James remained unchanged by the spell as Lily continued to plead. "No darling, we're not on Voldemort's side. We're on your side! Please, just lower your wand, sweetie!" Lily cried, tears now streaming down her cheeks. "How could we ever be on that monster's side, anyway." She added, angrily brushing her tears away. "We should've known not to trust in Peter, and when he came he – he killed your father and I - I tried to save you, but-" Lily shut her eyes against the onslaught of unhappy memories.

"But what? If you really are my mother as you claim, tell me what happened next." Harry hesitated for a beat, then looked Lily in the eyes. "Tell me the words you said to me before you died." Harry ordered, his grip retightened, ready for a duel.

Lily lowered her eyes in contemplation. "I - I said, that you were loved. That I love you, and your father loves you. I told you to be safe, and to be strong. I – I knew I was going to die and that I would be leaving you alone. I was afraid for you, darling. I'm so sorry, Harry. I'm so sorry I left you alone." At those last words, Lily broke down into sobs, and fell back into James arms; but she never broke eye contact with Harry.

Harry stared in disbelief. He thought back to when he had heard his mother's screams during the dementor attacks third year; the first time he heard his mother's voice. He remembered experiencing that night time and again through his own memories and then through the eyes of Voldemort after his fight with Nagini that fateful Christmas Eve. He recalled Snape's memories in the pensieve that he watched just before he left for the forbidden forest during the last battle. Slowly, he lowered his wand, as if dazed. She was right, this was his mother. The shield disappeared, releasing James and Lily. They visibly relaxed, but refused to move closer to their son, wary of possibly setting him off again.

"But," Harry began, confused. "but I didn't call you. I haven't used the stone at all, and you don't look like ghosts. Am I – am I dead? Did it finally happen? You'd think I would remember dying." He remarked seemingly to himself, his voice stunned and bewildered. Then his face crumpled again as he turned to Ginny, and then sought out his sons James and Albus, and Lily being cradled in Teddy's arms. "No, no, no, I can't be dead, because that would mean everyone is dead." Harry spun to see the whole Weasley family still gathered awkwardly around him, observing the scene. "You can't all be dead, I would never have allowed that to happen. Oh God, Ginny, tell me you all haven't died!" Harry looked desperately into Ginny's eyes, clutching her arms tightly like she was his grip to sanity. She found such suffering there she nearly broke.

"Harry, stop. No one is dead." Ginny persuaded, reaching her hand out and stroking his face, her hands becoming bloodied by the fresh wounds that still lingered there. "Think about it! What did it feel like the last time you died?" Ginny held up Harry's hands and showed him his wrists, bandaged now but still swollen and sore. Then she pulled off his glasses and he instantly squinted, his vision going blurry. "I remember you describing it to me; now compare. Was there pain then? Did you have cuts or bruises? Did you need your glasses?" Harry shook his head, relief flooding his emotions.

"No. Everything was white, and calm, and painless. You're right, Gin, it doesn't feel the same." He replied, as if in a daze.

"Exactly. Besides, do you really think the after-life is at _Muriel's_ of all places?" Ginny chuckled lovingly as she added that last part, and smiled as she saw Harry return the sentiment.

Someone cleared their throat, and Harry and Ginny were brought back to the present. The adults gathered were obviously feeling awkward being privy to such an intimate moment. They were undoubtedly very confused, Harry thought, realizing that until now, the family hadn't known about his temporary experience with death.

Harry replaced his glasses, and he finally turned and faced his parents, wonder on his face. Lily cautiously outstretched her arms, as if asking permission this time to embrace him. Harry nodded stiffly, still unsure how to act. She walked forward, her pace quickening. Still unsure, Harry took a couple steps towards her, and they collided, with James on Lily's heels. The three of them held each other with all the energy they possessed, and James felt tears slide down his own face as he held his son. James was quick to pull Ginny into the hug, and Harry beckoned his children to join. It took some coaxing, and after slight hesitation, Teddy joined as well.

…

Slowly and quietly, the Weasley's made their way out of the room to give the Potter family some space. Walking into the large dining room, Molly immediately flicked her wand and bottles of firewhiskey flew from the pantry and landed in front of her children; Bill and Fleur, Charlie, Percy and Audrey, George and Angelina, and Ron and Hermione. Arthur took his bottle gratefully, then cleared his throat to speak.

"Well, now that everyone is here, I believe it prudent to perform the fidelius charm. It will affect all who are in the house, and Molly has volunteered as secret keeper." Arthur began authoritatively. Consent was mutual, and everyone watched as Molly stepped forward. They clasped hands, her right in his left, and faced each other, holding their wands aloft. Arthur touched his wand to his wife's, and began the enchantment. Light illuminated the witch, as if it were coming from inside her.

"Will you, Molly Weasley, swear to protect the secret of this home: its location, inhabitants, and all other secrets regarding the safety and welfare of those contained therein?" Arthur asked.

"Yes, I will."

"Do you understand that from this moment on, only you may be the revealer of the location of this home, by means of writing, speaking, or transporting, that this act may only be accomplished voluntarily, and no amount of force can withdraw this information from you?" He asked again.

"Yes."

"And lastly, do you understand that should you…die… all those to whom you have chosen to reveal the secret will then inherit your responsibility?"

"Yes, I understand." She replied, and what seemed like ribbons of flexible blue light flew from Arthur's wand, connecting with her wand, and worked their way down, sliding down the length of her fingers, to her arm, to her mouth and lips, and worked their way round her torso, ending in a heap at her feet before disappearing. The light emanating from Molly disappeared along with the ribbons.

"It is done." Arthur sighed, relieved. They all sat in silence for a moment, the adults pondering and reminiscing the last time the fidelius charm was done for their family; in this very home, in this very room 17 years previously. After a while, Molly broke the silence.

"I think it is time for the children to go to bed. We have a long discussion ahead of us, and I don't think it appropriate they be present." She said stiffly.

"Quite right, mother." Percy replied. "Lucy, off to bed." Percy ordered. Lucy rose obediently, and Audrey rose with baby Molly to go and put her down to bed as well.

" _What!?_ Papa, I am nearly of age! I deserve to know why I got taken out of school!" Victoire countered angrily. Dominque and Fred quickly joined in the debate.

"Oh Bill, Victoire zhould stay, don't you zink?" Fleur entreated. Bill looked on exasperated, and Fred and Dominique's pleading increased in volume, accompanied by Roxanne, Rose, Hugo, and Louise.

"Most certainly _not_ , Rose! Hugo, do not give me that look."

"Roxanne, Fred, you heard your mother, now go to bed!"

One by one, all the children were carted off, all except Victoire and Dominique, who sat at the table victoriously; being the oldest of the cousins had its perks, after all. Teddy, who was of age and technically Harry's responsibility so no one questioned it, had slipped in during the fuss and sat down next to Victoire. The family looked at Teddy expectantly as if he would soon be followed by the rest of the Potter clan.

"They're all kind of in a Potter group hug. They may be a while, but I'll take one of those firewhiskys if you've got an extra?" Teddy asked. Victoire watched him suspiciously, recognizing his forced cheeriness.

"You'll have a butterbeer; I don't care if you're of age, you're still in school." Molly replied. Teddy shrugged his shoulders and accepted the drink without complaint.

"What do you think they're talking about in there? If they decide to tell Harry's whole life story, they won't be in until morning!" Ron remarked as his mother handed him a pepper-up potion. He was still a little off-color, but he was improving quickly.

The group sat in silence, each sipping their drink when the quiet was broken by a mutually held question. "What did Ginny mean when she said it didn't feel like the last time Harry died?" Percy asked quietly, looking to Ron and Hermione for answers. They looked at each other sheepishly.

"There are... um, quite a few things that Harry didn't want anyone knowing. The fact that Harry died once before was one of them. He thought it might bring up unnecessary questions and concerns." Hermione replied anxiously.

"What's that supposed to mean? I thought we were a family, and I thought we were supposed to tell each other everything! What else have you been keeping from us?" George countered, a hint of anger lacing his tone.

"Look, there were good reasons for keeping it from you! Believe me, I wanted to tell you, but Harry was right. There are some things that ought to be left alone, and sometimes knowledge is a hard thing to bear. A really hard thing to bear… We were only wanting to make things easier on the rest of you." Ron replied, hands in a pleading gesture.

"Easier!? You mean all those damn secrets that you kept and all those things you did during the war that you never told us about, no matter _how_ many times we asked, were meant to make things _easier!?_ Who exactly gave you the right to make decisions for us? _"_ George was on his feet now, and it was obvious he was only warming up. He opened his mouth to continue when the door opened and Harry walked into the room. He was followed closely by Ginny and his parents, who each took a seat at the table, his children having already been sent to bed.

Everyone readied themselves for a long night of explanations.

 **A/N: Hello** **just a little clarification. Harry's reaction to seeing his parents may not be what you all imagined, but I tend to think that Harry has been through a LOT, not just in his lifetime but also in just the past couple of days. He hasn't slept much and is probably still on high alert from the many duels he had just been in, and suddenly seeing his parents would be yet another shock to his system. Also, what would harry think logically if suddenly his parents were back from the dead? First, imposters. Second, something to do with the stone, third that he was dead! Considering the latter two are the last times he's seen people who have passed on I don't think its too much of a leap to make.**

 **Ultimately though, he is a trusting person, and he especially trusts Ginny and his family. If Ginny says they're real, then after his brain has caught up with his emotions I think he would believe her.**

 **Also, somehow I don't see Harry wanting to rehash all the hard stuff they went though during the Deathly Hallows. Through the years I'm sure when it was pertinent he would have talked about it, and in special conversations and circumstances, but I don't think they would have had one big talk about it all at once one night. There was too much mourning going on right after the battle, and they ALL wanted to move on. I think the family probably has an idea of some stuff, but not everyone has the same facts and what facts they do have it probably jumbled.**

 **This will play out in the next chapter**


	21. Chapter 21

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 21: Explanations

Harry cleared his throat and began.

"Look, I know you all want to know what happened today. Where I've been, how Voldemort came back, everything. Unfortunately, for that explanation to even make sense, we will have go back two decades. It's time you knew exactly what happened the last time." The responses to this differed from huffs of impatience to inhales of enthusiasm and anticipation.

Harry soldiered on, "Ron, Hermione, and I talked briefly about what we wanted to say while Ron was in hospital. If we told you literally _everything,_ it would take all night, and we don't have that kind of time. Besides, I just don't have the energy nor the desire to rehash all that." Harry hesitated, unsure where to begin, and obviously very reluctant to do so.

"So even now, you're going to keep secrets from us, is that it?" George said testily.

"Look, George. It's a long story, and one we don't particularly enjoy remembering. So how about you shut up and give us a chance to explain, eh?" Ron snapped. This was met with stony silence, but silence nonetheless. They all watched as Harry slowly removed a bowl from his cloak and set it on the table. With a flick of his wand, the small bowl the size of a child's fist quickly grew to being a large and imposing basin. Runes and precious stones adorned the edges, and it was filled with a cloudy substance; not quite liquid, but not gas either.

Harry was met with curious stares: most confused, others filled with awe and reverence.

"Is that – is that a pensieve, Harry?" Lily asked, astonished.

"Yes. This was once owned by Professor Dumbledore. When he died, it was left to me. I plan on using it to show you my memories."

"Soo, what does it do exactly?" Charlie began, searching the room's faces, glad to see the majority had the same confused expression.

Seeing this, Harry explained, "Alright, this is how it works. For those who don't know, a pensieve is a very rare magical object that allows one to place and review memories. In my experience, it can be very useful, informative, and valuable when you need a little perspective. Um, has anyone ever actually used a pensieve before….?" Harry asked hesitantly. Teddy grinned and raised his hand dramatically, and Ginny nodded silently. To Harry's surprise, Lily and James both raised their hands as well.

At Harry's questioning stare, James said, "Dumbledore showed us his memory when we learned of the prophecy. It was the only thing that could convince us to go into hiding." James looked down at his hands clenched on top of the table, obviously reliving some dark memory. Lily reached over and held them in her own until they relaxed.

"Wait, even you two haven't used this?" Angelina asked pointedly at Ron and Hermione.

"Well, to be fair we did kind of experience most of these memories _with_ Harry, so he wouldn't exactly have a need to show us, would he?" Ron responded matter-of-factly.

"And what things we didn't Harry either told us, or we understood it was something best left unsaid." Hermione finished.

"Right…" Angelina responded.

Harry nodded and continued. "That's true. Some things are difficult to talk about, which is why in this case, it is especially convenient because it allows all of you to see and understand my past without me actually having to tell you any of it." Harry explained.

"Wicked…" George said, wide-eyed. They all watched attentively as Harry opened his suitcase and began sifting through various vials, forehead creased in concentration. With different vials he would grimace or smile as he recalled the different memories held in each, and the majority of grimaces were usually placed aside in a pile of their own. After a couple minutes, Harry had a small but daunting collection of vials on the table, and the rest were replaced in the suitcase.

He pulled the stopper on the vial nearest him, which had a label reading "third task."

…

The group sat in silence. It was dawn now. They had spent the entire night in and out of the pensieve, watching Harry's memories and discussing the implications. Lily and James were sobbing quietly in each other's arms, having not only witnessed the deaths of many of their close friends, but also the deep and profound suffering their child had experienced in his short life.

They had begun with the graveyard in order to show the effects of priori incantatem, as well as to highlight Voldemort's need for a new wand that led him to his search of the Elder Wand only a few years later.

They watched as Sirius fell through the veil in the death chamber so as to be able to understand one of the powerful magical objects that made Voldemort's latest resurrection possible. They listened intently as Dumbledore explained the prophecy, Lily's protection, the reality of a horcrux, and gasped as Harry destroyed Riddle's diary. Ginny chose not to enter this particular memory. Harry decided not to show them the destruction of the locket in order to spare Ron's feelings, nor any of the other horcruxes. It was much easier and less time-consuming to just explain what the other objects were, and to say that they were destroyed. Further explanations could be delivered at a less pressing time.

This wasn't why the group sat in silence, though. Just as promised, Harry had included the explanation of the deathly hallows. He began with Xenophilius Lovegood. During the reading of the Three Brothers, Harry was pleased to note the understanding that appeared on the faces of not only James Potter, but Lily, George, and Arthur's faces as well. Harry included his vision of Voldemort stealing the Elder Wand from Dumbledore's tomb, as well as a part of Snape's memories when Harry discovered that he was a horcrux, and his trip to the forbidden forest.

James and Lily had cried anew when they saw their ghost selves appear to their son for the second time, having been quite shocked at their appearance in the graveyard earlier. Harry didn't include much of what he talked about with his parents, Sirius, and Remus that fateful night. He was satisfied to just show them how the stone worked. Harry also elected not to include his experience with death as it was also extremely personal, and instead chose to end with the last duel between him and Voldemort. He watched sadly as the Weasley's struggled to keep their own emotions in check as memories of that battle and Fred's death threatened to undo them.

After gaining better control of themselves, the Weasley's began to look at Harry in a different light. "So, you're telling us that you are the Master of Death, and that's how you survived?" Bill asked, dumbfounded. At this, Harry removed the wand from his inner pocket of his robes. He laid it flat on the table in front of him, and watched as everyone gasped in surprise and apprehension.

"That's it? That's the Elder Wand made by Death?" Arthur said, awe struck.

"That's not all." Harry replied, and he went on to remove the Resurrection Stone as well as his invisibility cloak, and laid all three hallows side by side on the table.

"WHAT!? You mean you had that this whole time and you didn't tell us?! You hid that from us!?" George suddenly shouted, anger bringing him to his feet as he pointed at the resurrection stone.

"We're sorry, We just thought –" Ron tried to say.

"And there it is again! You thought you could make decisions for us? You should've told us, we're your family!"

"I'm sorry, George. It was my choice not to tell you." Harry said, cutting him off. "Knowledge can be a burden, and I didn't want you to have to carry it. Any of you."

"No, you had no right. We could have – it could've…" George's face was red, and angry tears were now shining in his eyes.

"You think it could've brought Fred back." Ginny said quietly, her tone full of understanding. Her face was sad, but her jaw was firm. "You're wrong, George. Like Harry said, sometimes knowledge is a burden. The knowledge that there was a way for you to see and talk to Fred again, but never touch him, and have him as a constant reminder of his death? It would have been too much. I could barely carry that burden myself when I discovered it. But it's not _real,_ George, didn't you see the memory? It can't bring someone back from the dead. They don't belong here." Ginny eyes were filled with tears, as were all of those gathered. Molly was silently sobbing into Arthur's shoulder, and Percy was grasping Audrey's hand fiercely, head hung too low for anyone to see his expression. "The stone brings them back, but they're less than ghosts. It would destroy you, George, just like the second brother."

"Nothing can bring someone back from the dead." Ron added.

"Except for them, apparently." George whispered dejectedly, looking at James and Lily. Everyone looked at the couple, have seemingly forgotten them in their own misery.

"I'm sorry, George. If I could bring Fred back, I would." Harry whispered again. "Look, we don't have any of the Sand of Time, first off, and secondly, as I've said before that stone is cursed. It's not meant to be used." Harry could feel his parent's eyes on him, but he knew he was telling the truth. "I know what it's like to want something so badly, despite knowing it could never happen. It can drive you mad if you let it."

"What do you mean?" Charlie asked innocently. A pregnant pause followed this question before Harry decided to answer.

"My first year, I encountered the Mirror of Erised. It shows you your greatest desires. My greatest desire was – it was to have my parents back; it was to have a family who actually loved me." Harry glanced again at his parents, whose eyes were both red with tears. "I returned to that mirror night after night for weeks. Finally, Dumbledore helped me realize that some dreams are only that; dreams. The dead don't return, and even when I called them forth using the stone, they were less than ghosts. They gave me the courage I needed to face Voldemort and let him kill me, and that's all. They were never meant to stay.

After I died, I came to realize that Death isn't something to be feared. We shouldn't pity those who die, but those of us who are left behind. I left the stone in the forbidden forest because I knew the temptation to use it would be too strong. It truly would destroy you, George! Fred wouldn't have wanted it." Harry entreated, pleading with him to understand why he did what he did, and why they couldn't use the stone now.

"Honestly, I'm glad my parents are back, I really am." Harry looked at them, honesty in his eyes. "But we don't yet know the full consequences of that. It was a dark ritual that returned them to me, a ritual that included that cursed stone, that has taken as many lives as spirits it has called forth. Somehow I fear that the other shoe will drop." He said, ending in almost a whisper, as if he spoke it more to himself than to those gathered.

George didn't look up. They sat in silence for a long time – the longest period yet, contemplating.

"You made the right decision. Thank you, Harry." Molly finally said, reaching forward and squeezing her adopted son's hand. Harry gave her a grateful smile. Silence engulfed the group once again.

After a time, George raised his head, all hint of anger gone. In its place was an anguish alike to right after Fred had died. Harry's heart stopped, guilt and pain throbbing anew in his chest. "Harry, what's it like to die? You say Voldemort killed you, right? Do you remember it?"

Harry exhaled slowly, closing his eyes to ponder how to answer this question. "When I was walking in the forbidden forest, just before surrendering myself to Voldemort, I asked the same question. Sirius answered it better than anyone when he said it was easier than falling asleep. When Voldemort hit me with his killing curse, I realized that Sirius was right. I – I went to a place that I still don't quite understand. But it was peaceful, and bright, and warm. I didn't hurt anymore, there was no pain, no fear…

Dumbledore was there. He said that I had the choice to either move on, or go back and face Voldemort one last time; face the pain, and the sorrow, and the grief, and the guilt. I went back because Voldemort still wasn't dead, and I had to finish it. But I admit, at the time I didn't want to at all. All I wanted to do was move on, and never have to face any of it again. I've never experienced such peace, not before nor after that moment.

You ask what it's like to die, George, and all I can tell you is... it doesn't hurt. Fred probably didn't even feel it." Harry opened his eyes to face his brother-in-law. George nodded pensively, deep in thought. "But it's also something that can wait." Harry added cautiously. "We only live once, and we only die once. Once we decide to move on, there's no coming back; not even for me. Honestly, it's worth it to fill this life with memories, good and bad, and to finish living first."

The two exceptions to the rule Harry had just laid out were given no heed. For the first time, the family had accepted that it was a special circumstance, and no one else could or ever would come back. They waited until everyone had their emotions better under control before continuing.

"So, now he's back, and it's not going to be easy. I don't have my mother's protection anymore, I no longer have that connection I had with him when I was a horcrux, and as far as I know there's no prophecy concerning this situation. Even the Elder Wand is nothing more than an exceptionally powerful wand; it's not unbeatable. Dumbledore proved that when he defeated Grindewald. But, at least Voldemort doesn't have any other horcruxes that we know of…yet. Frankly, I'm not even sure that he _can_ make any more horcruxes." Harry continued, bringing the topic of conversation back to the matter at hand.

They spent the next couple hours discussing Harry's latest experience with Voldemort as well as what their next move would be. Molly would stay behind with the children to care for them, and also to protect her status as secret keeper. After getting some rest, Harry planned on returning to work. There was a war going on, and he knew his presence and skills would be needed, along with anyone else willing to fight.

But for now, his exhaustion was really catching up to him. He had spent over a day as a prisoner, and then nearly a full day had passed where he not only fought in the ministry, but nearly died in his own home. He needed a hot shower, a shave, and a good night's sleep. He felt Ginny's gentle touch on his shoulder, arousing him from his faraway thoughts.

"I think it's time we get some rest. C'mon, you've more than earned it." She said smiling. Everyone retired to their beds, and Harry allowed his wife to lead him to their room. They laid curled in each other's arms, and he let her warm body relax his own as he drifted to sleep.

Tomorrow would begin the first day of the third war against Lord Voldemort.


	22. Chapter 22

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 22: Lily

Lily watched her son anxiously as he left the table. He seemed dead on his feet, he was so exhausted. Bruise like smudges ringed his eyes, three days' worth of stubble darkened his jaw, and what appeared to be cuts lined his cheeks and arms. He walked gingerly, like he was sore, and she noticed his small grimaces of pain when he breathed too deeply. In her head, she categorized possible injuries that he was doing a very good job at hiding.

But he would, wouldn't he? From what she had just witnessed, Harry was not one who showed his emotions on his sleeve. Besides maybe anger, as she has seen in his memories. He hid his feelings well, as if he had been doing it all his life. Everyone else around the table had shed a few tears tonight, many bordering hysterical sobbing (she included herself in this category) and yet he hadn't. Even when they embraced for the first time, she could feel his love and his emotions as they all hugged deeply, and yet his eyes remained dry.

James would never admit it, but he was a crier. Not at everything, no, but on many occasions when his emotions were high it wasn't uncommon for a tear or two to escape. And she most definitely was prone to weeping. So where did he get that from?

She had observed him all night, noting the likeness of his features to James, seeing her own eyes stare back at her, his mannerisms giving her hints of personality that were a mix of James, her, and something completely his own. She still knew basically nothing about her son, and yet she just learned so much in the space of a few hours. He was strong, she knew that. He was determined, and brave, and honest, and compassionate. He was a powerful wizard - his raw talent was apparent in each and every memory. Yet, he was not prideful nor did he use his power for his own gain or for the belittling of others. She was especially thankful for this considering James' own adolescence. No, he was humble, and he was respected, and especially very loved by his family.

One did not have to look very far to see that the Weasley family held Harry in very high regard. They valued his opinion, and they listened to him. He was a leader, and from what she saw of the memories, he had been almost worshipped by the majority of the wizarding community. During the war, Harry was a symbol of hope, and the one who they knew would lead them to victory. That reverence given him was still apparent, even by the older siblings and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. But it had grown to more than just admiration, but to unity and companionship; Harry had dealt the last blow, but together is how they won the war.

Lily was aroused from her deep thoughts by her husband nudging her to stand. It had been a long day, and if she looked anything like James, she must be exhausted. Harry and Ginny had also risen to their feet and were making their way over to say good night. She hugged her son deeply, and after some hesitation he returned the hug, as if he didn't know how to react to such shows of affection. There was still a strange distance that lingered; and why wouldn't there be? Theirs wasn't a relationship that could somehow be made perfect in the space of a few hours, after all! She kissed him goodnight and again noted the awkwardness between them.

Lily allowed James to help her to her feet as Molly hugged and placed a kiss on each of her children, including Harry. Lily saw the concern in Molly's eyes, and she and Harry seemed to have a silent conversation. Harry ended it with a shake of his head, and Molly gave him another kiss on the cheek.

It hurt a little, to see the bond her own son had with another woman, a woman who obviously loved him like a son and whom he loved like a mother. There was no reluctance or awkwardness in their hug, and Lily's eyes welled again with tears as James squeezed her shoulders. Would she ever be able to develop such an easy relationship?

"Lily, James dears. Can I lead you to your rooms? We're lucky Muriel insisted on keeping the place despite being the only one living here – really comes in handy when we have family get-togethers." Molly was now beside Lily, offering another comforting hand on her shoulder as Arthur produced a clean handkerchief. She led them out of the kitchen, passing the living room and up some stairs. They reached a landing where two rooms sat opposite each other.

"Now, Arthur and I always take this room when we visit, and the one across is equally large and comfortable. Please don't hesitate to let us know if you need anything, dears." Arthur led James into the room, assumingly to give him a small tour.

"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I didn't realize how tired I am…" Lily replied, her tears drying as she gained control of herself for the umpteenth time that night. Molly smiled and began chattering, "Oh, call me Molly. You're just like Harry – it took him years to call me anything other than Mrs. Weasley! It was so hard to prove to him how much we cared, and he and Ginny were already married when I insisted, considering I had finally become his – oh! Well, his mother-in-law." Lily noticed the slight slip-of-the-tongue, and saw Molly turn bright red at some unknown embarrassment.

Understanding dawned. "You mean, you were finally his mother?" Lily asked kindly.

"I – well, he had a mother, I mean _has_ a mother. It's not like he never had one – you were always his mother, Lily dear." Molly suddenly became flustered, alerting Lily to some deeper meaning.

"Mrs. – um, Molly, I know it can't have been easy for Harry growing up without parents. But, Ginny told me he grew up with my sister, and I'm sure it was very confusing for him to have so many mother figures in his life. It's obvious how much he loves you." Lily was again confused by Molly's reaction, as her eyes seemed to flash and her face paled.

"Yes, well. I'm just grateful Ronald decided to befriend him that day on the train. Our lives would have been very different otherwise, for the worse I believe."

Lily smiled and turned to enter her room when suddenly another thought rattled her. "Oh! Molly, if this is the whole family, where are my sister and brother-in-law? If they raised Harry, and Voldemort's supporters are targeting Harry's family, shouldn't they be here as well?" She could slap herself for being so stupid and selfish!

Molly's eyes again flashed with malice and some other unknown emotion, her lips pursing before she answered in a clipped tone, "Oh no, Lily dear. Harry has not been in contact with them since before his 17th birthday." Her tone dictated that was the end of the conversation, but Lily was insistent.

"What do you mean? They raised him! Surely they would be worried to know all that's happened!"

"No. They would not. Besides, I highly doubt He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would bother to track them down, again considering they have not been in contact for nearly 20 years." Molly was quickly become irate, and Lily was reeling from this new information.

"Molly, whatever happened? What do you mean they wouldn't be worried? Did they have some sort of a falling out?" Lily almost feared the answer. She knew how her sister could be, and how horrendously Petunia had treated her and James; but Harry had been an innocent baby! Surely Petunia would care for him like her own?

Molly huffed, and hesitated greatly before answering. "It's not my place to say, and I know how upset Harry would be if he knew I brought it up. You see, Harry and his relatives never had a 'falling out' because they never really had a 'falling in,' if you could say such a thing. I'm sorry to have to tell you that there was absolutely no love lost between his _family_ and him the day he left that house for good." She seemed to spit the word family as if it were a curse. "I have no proof, and far be it from me to assume something Harry has never admitted and refuses to speak of, but I believe it to be quite obvious they never cared for him. He always thought he had to do it alone, because as a small child, that was all he had: himself. They made him feel worthless, and treated him as a _thing,_ to neglect and starve and who knows what else that boy suffered."

Molly was on the verge of tears now, her obvious rage being the only thing keeping her going. "But, I want you to know that despite all of that, Harry is a very special, and wonderful man. He loves his children, and he treats my daughter with the utmost love and respect. He has always been kind-hearted; forced into situations no person ought to be, and has overcome the greatest of odds. I fought for him time and again, and I strived to show him that he was loved, and _worthy_ of love. He thought it was something you had to earn! Imagine it! He has been a part of this family since he was 11 years old, and he is like my own son. I'll be damned if he ever has to face those wretched beings ever again, and if I could, I would remove every memory and every hurt they caused him and throw them away, replacing them with only good memories of how much _this_ family loves him and cares for him and would do anything for him." Molly finished quite out of breath, her face beet red with passion, and her eyes now streaming with fresh tears.

Lily was frozen in shock. She didn't know how to react to this information, and yet, it made sense. Horrible sense. Had she really ever expected Petunia to be anything better than the hateful, jealous, vindictive person she always was? And that husband of hers! Of course he would turn out to be the same bastard as when she had first met him. That was why Harry was supposed to go to Sirius if anything happened to them!

Molly on the other hand was suddenly being wracked with guilt. She had allowed her emotions to get the best of her. Harry was a very private person, and if he knew what she had just blurted in a moment of exhaustion, stress, and anger, he would be distraught! He was always so embarrassed – ashamed, really – when it came to talking about his relatives. He never admitted anything and instead changed the subject abruptly whenever it came up. And now, she had just told not just anyone, but his own mother the truth about how horrible her sister had been.

"Lily, dear. I – I didn't mean to have such an outburst. I don't know what came over –" The breath was knocked out of Molly's lungs as she was engulfed in Lily's arms.

"Thank you, Molly. Thank you for taking care of my son." Lily was sobbing now, and Molly reached her arms up to return the tight embrace. They held each other, Molly Weasley and Lily Potter, connected so deeply by the bond of motherly love shared between them for the same boy.

Arthur and James emerged from the bedroom grinning, only to come up short at the sight of their wives having fits of blubbering and sniffles. Slowly, the two sidled back into the bedroom, closing the door behind them.

James looked at the older man, putting his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth awkwardly. He knew Lily very well, and he knew that whatever had caused this latest episode of waterworks was likely to last a very long time. "So…" he began, "Who's in the running for the World Cup these days?"

 **A/N - Thanks for all the reviews, you guys! Again, I want to express the support you've given me, and I've taken each one of your comments to heart:)**

 **Ok, that's enough talk for now. Let's get back to some action!**


	23. Chapter 23

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 23: Death Eaters Reunited

 _17 years later, Theodore knocked on a door and was admitted into the very house he had hoped he would never see again, and was taken to the very man whom he knew would share his own sentiments regarding the matter._

" _Nott. It's been a long time."_

" _Malfoy." Theodore responded with a curt nod._

Theodore looked around the drawing room suspiciously, half expecting Voldemort to come striding through the door any minute. Only yesterday he had been going about his day with no expectations, sporting only a deep scar on his left arm. Now the dark mark was black as ink, he was sitting in Draco Malfoy's manor being served tea and biscuits in the early morning hours, with the man himself sitting right across from him!

"He's not here." Draco Malfoy stated, eyeing his guest contemptuously. "Oh, don't look so surprised, it's obvious why you've come." He said again, this time in response to Theodore's astonishment. Theodore felt agitated; the picture of anxiety, yet Malfoy was composed, as always.

"How can you be so calm at a time like this?" Theodore asked.

"Believe me, I am far from calm, Nott. I can control it better than you, is all. Now why did you come here? What do you expect _me_ to do about it?"

"Well, considering your status compared to mine, I assumed you would know something I didn't. If he really is back, I thought he might come here."

"Well, I don't, and he hasn't. Besides, if he is returned my status will not help me in the least. Considering my many failures, as well as those of my parents in the eyes of the Dark Lord, I fully expect to die at his hand. I can only hope he will spare my family." Draco replied, a hint of aggravation and something Theodore couldn't quite pinpoint. Fear, perhaps? But no. _Since when has Malfoy ever been afraid? Shouldn't he be happy the Dark Lord is returning? Or does he really hate the thought as much as I do?_ Theodore thought to himself, eyeing his old classmate curiously.

"What do you mean? Why would he kill you? You were one of his favorites; he marked you in only our sixth year!" he asked.

"Shut up. Don't speak of things you don't understand." Draco responded, the fear becoming obvious beneath his composed façade.

"I didn't even fight with him at the final battle! I ran like a coward with the rest of the Slytherins! If anyone is to fear, it's me." Theodore responded, incredulous. "You can tell me, Draco. I swear, I won't tell a soul."

"It's not you I doubt, Nott. It's your ability to keep secrets from _him._ You only met him the once, you don't know what he's capable of." Draco said, his sneer turning to a brooding grimace, as if remembering something from long ago. "He can read your mind, Nott. Your thoughts aren't even safe. Even the most skilled Occlumens are barely able to withstand, if at all. Snape was the only one I know of, and what little he taught me wasn't enough."

Theodore sat in silence, now even more anxious.

"You've nothing to truly fear, Nott. He will likely punish you, but I doubt he'll kill you. Passivity isn't as bad as rebellion, and I am guilty of both. I am guilty regardless of which side I choose this time." Draco's words faded to mere contemplative murmurs as he stood to face the window, staring into the early morning sun.

A timid knock came suddenly, making Theordore jump tremendously. Draco on his part stayed calm, and didn't even turn around as the door was opened. A pale woman with long brown hair stepped hesitantly inside. She was exquisite, just as she had always been. She was a bit thinner now, and more pale, _but still beautiful,_ Theodore thought, trying to hide his blush at her entrance, forcing down past memories.

"Excuse me darling, but the post has arrived. I – well I thought you might want to see it…" she said quietly. She looked to Theodore for only a moment before glancing back at her husband, as if Theodore was of no consequence.

She passed her husband the paper, and the tension around her eyes and mouth increased dramatically, and she fidgeted while waiting for her husband's reaction. As Draco took the paper, he seemed to collect himself again before looking at the front page. Draco's face remained stoic, though his jaw clenched tightly and he paled considerably. Theodore couldn't see what was on the paper, but from Draco's reaction, he knew it couldn't be good.

Finally, after what seemed like a life-time, but was really only a matter of seconds, Draco passed the paper to Theodore. A large moving picture of what appeared to be the Ministry of Magic atrium on fire was emblazoned across the front page, and a large headline reading:

 **"YOU-KNOW-WHO RETURNED! ATTACK AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC! HARRY POTTER UNAVAILABLE FOR COMMENT"**

 **What could this mean for the wizarding world?**

Theodore hissed through his teeth, his vision suddenly going blurry. He cursed, fear taking control as he crumpled the pages in his hand and threw them away from him, his head collapsing into his hands. He was startled by Draco's voice.

"Astoria, get your things, and help Scorpius pack a bag. We are leaving immediately."

"But Draco – "

"NOW, Astoria!" He demanded, and with a yelp of fright she left the room hurriedly.

"Nott, get a hold of yourself. You'd better go, too. If this is true, there is one of two things about to happen: either aurors from the ministry of magic are about to descend on my home any moment, assuming the exact same thing you did, or the Dark Lord himself will send for us by means of the dark mark or messengers. I expect the latter will come before the former, and I would prefer not to be here when it happens. I refuse to put my family in danger." Draco said, pulling his wand from his pocket. With a flourish, he produced a quill and a scroll, and began scribbling hastily, ink splashing the pages sloppily in his rush.

"What are you doing!? What do you mean!?" Theodore entreated, panic taking over. Draco ignored him and continued to write, now producing a second page.

"Draco! Answer me! I don't want this, I can't believe this is happening!"

"GET OUT!" Draco yelled, and he stood to bodily remove Theodore from the room when suddenly the door burst open again with a BANG!

Pansy Parkinson sauntered into the room. "Well hello, Draco darling. Been a long time." Antoine Avery trailed close behind, along with Gregory Goyle and his wife Millicent, and the slight Flora Carrow behind them.

Theodore saw the scroll and quill disappear instantly. "Oh please, do come in unannounced and uninvited." Draco said sarcastically, motioning with a curt nod for the group to take a seat. "Read the morning paper, have you?"

"Come off it. It's not just the paper. You know why we're here." Goyle stated aggressively.

"So, where is he?" Millicent demanded. "You may be a traitor and a wretch, but you must know something. Tell us!"

"Even if I did know something, why would I tell you? But please, stick around while we wait for the aurors to show up and arrest us all!" Draco responded with malice. "Wouldn't they just love to catch a bunch of ex-death eaters gathered together. We may as well be plotting their downfall! Do you want to go back to Azkaban!?"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would never allow it. Unlike you, we stayed loyal." Avery whispered. "Or at least, for _some_ he would be lenient. He's not exactly the most forgiving type, is he? Especially to _cowards…"_ Avery looked pointedly at Theodore, mocking. "Or _traitors…"_ this time turning his gaze to Draco.

Draco's wand was drawn in an instant, pointed straight in Avery's face, a curse on the tip of his tongue. "I would choose your next words very carefully, Avery. Don't forget. I at least tried to capture Potter during the battle. What did you do? Fight little third years who snuck back in? Run from the _spiders_?"

"Screw you. It's not what you did then, but what you've done since that will assure you a very sticky end, Malfoy." Avery sneered.

"Oh really? I don't see you enjoying a cell in Azkaban. You're just as guilty as I am."

"ENOUGH!" Pansy shouted. They all gave her their attention, but Draco refused to lower his wand. "We have a decision to make. If it weren't for the reappearance of the dark mark, I wouldn't have believed the Daily Prophet, but obviously it's true. The Dark Lord has returned, and like Malfoy said, none of us are enjoying a prison sentence. Except for Goyle, we've all done what we had to in order to escape Azkaban. So, what are going to do about it? Does anyone have any information on what the hell is going on?"

"You don't even have a dark mark, how do you know? See it on your current lover, Pansy? Ooh, which one?" Millicent jeered.

Pansy scowled and Avery glared daggers at Millicent. Draco scoffed and chuckled darkly along with the rest, lowering his wand and returning to his seat. "Well?" he asked.

They all sat in the room, looking suspiciously at one another. No one spoke.

"Alright, it's settled. The Dark Lord is back, but he doesn't seem to require our assistance, or he would have already summoned us…" Theodore offered hesitantly.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, pretty boy." A voice suddenly sounded from the open door, startling the group. "In fact, you can be sure that the Dark Lord does indeed require your presence. Well, those brave enough to stand by him as he once again triumphs over the wizarding world."

Henrick Ollivander smirked as he stared at the group in front of him. "So? Who's brave enough to return to his side and accept his punishment? He may just let you live."

Draco paled, and inside he was trembling with fear. He was going to die, he was sure of it. After trying to kill Harry, and failing terribly, he had then done his utmost just to stay alive. His own mother had lied to Voldemort that Harry was dead, which would no doubt result in a very severe and agonizing death should she ever be found. Thankfully she was on holiday in France at the moment.

After Voldemort's defeat, Lucius went to prison, and Draco had willingly surrendered the names of many death eaters and accomplices. Most of his wealth and status had been stripped of him, but he was allowed to escape Azkaban only because of Harry Potter's help. Harry had testified that Draco saved his life while a prisoner in Malfoy Manor, and even went so far as to say Draco was forced to do Voldemort's bidding on account of Lucius' downfall after the battle at the Department of Mysteries. To the eyes of what was left of Voldemort's followers, Draco was a traitor; a turncoat, who helped and accepted the help of the Dark Lord's greatest enemy! Voldemort would never forgive that.

The others hadn't even done anything worthy of a prison sentence besides accept the mark, which they hastily confessed to having done so under duress and fear of death in order to escape Azkaban. Even Goyle pleaded duress, and spent only a few months in Azkaban due to his actions during the school year and at the last battle. When he was released he refused to show support for any mention of Voldemort. If Harry had cared enough to defend Goyle like he did Malfoy, Goyle probably wouldn't have gone to prison at all. Though these actions would not be good in the eyes of Lord Voldemort, they were hardly worth being killed over.

Avery was the first to stand, grinning in excitement. He reached his hand for Pansy's, and one by one the rest of the gathered rose to their feet, ending with a desperate looking Theodore. Draco remained seated, however, and met the eyes of each in the room.

On the outside, he remained composed. But a war was happening under the surface. Flashes of his time as a death eater passed across his mind; the pride he felt when Voldemort returned and his family was so highly favored that summer before his fifth year; the shame when his father was imprisoned after the debacle of the Department of Mysteries. He thought of the terror and dread that accompanied his every waking moment all sixth year, and the pain and guilt as a result of Dumbledore's death and Bellatrix's destruction of his school.

His seventh year had been even worse. He witnessed torture, murder, and his father's loss of position and favor in the eyes of their master. They were prisoners in their own home, forced to live in fear, with a continual sense of foreboding; any moment, Voldemort could decide they were no longer needed, or he could have another temper tantrum and kill them all, or he would force another round of the cruciatus curse to ease his displeasure.

If it were only himself and his own sense of self-preservation, Draco may have been willing to return to his master's side, if only out of a need for survival – running would get him nowhere, and just like so many others, he would inevitably be found and killed. If he returned, he _might_ just be given mercy. Now, though, he had his family; Astoria, who was already so frail and ill, and Scorpius. He had never wanted Scorpius to grow up like he did.

Draco could be very strict, and sometimes harsh in his discipline. He had high expectations, and he knew Scorpius suffered because of it. But Draco never laid a hand on his son, and he would rather die than allow his son to become a pawn for the Dark Lord's own ends. He would do anything so that his family could escape the fate that was forced on him as a child.

"Draco Malfoy. I don't believe we've been formerly introduced." Ollivander said, extending his hand. These thoughts whirred in Draco's mind as his face remained passive and stoic, play-acting the cool demeanor that was expected of a Malfoy.

"No, we haven't. Forgive me." Draco rose to meet him and extended his hand cordially. "I suppose we'd best get on with it, shall we? Our marks haven't burned, so you'll have to give us our destination in order to apparate."

"Oh, of course. But I was thinking maybe we could use a portkey. Much more convenient, don't you think? I wouldn't want anyone to be left behind, after all." _Dammit!_ Draco thought. His ways out were becoming fewer and fewer.

"Sounds perfect. Allow me." Draco produced a small golden trinket from his pocket, extending it to Ollivander like an olive branch. "Will you do the honors, then?"

Ollivander smiled at the trinket and whispered "Portus." Apprehensively, the group each extended a finger. Draco sighed in defeat and acceptance, placing his own finger on the portkey. He wished his family luck as he felt the familiar pull behind his naval as they were teleported, appearing outside a grand and grim fortress. The smell of salt and rain reached Draco's nostrils, and the sun was hidden behind heavy black clouds, threatening a storm. He looked around him to see many others outside the building, standing and staring at something high above their heads. He followed their gaze upwards, and his breath caught in his throat.

A man stood at the only window in the building, his black robes billowing and his pale skin almost translucent: Lord Voldemort, awaiting the return of his followers.


	24. Chapter 24

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 24: The Letter

Astoria Malfoy stalked resolutely through the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Debris littered the great room, and the hanging posters continued to smoke and smolder, sprinkling snowy ashes on those below. The large monument that had stood in the center of the atrium was now blown to pieces, and large chunks of marble was scattered across the atrium as if it had been blown apart by a mighty curse. Astoria passed a particularly large chunk and shuddered as she saw the names of those lost during the war written in gold, knowing that many more names would be added to the next monument at the end of all this. Many stopped in their clean-up efforts to watch her pass. The wife of a former death-eater, especially today, drew more attention than the average woman received, even one as striking as her. Her dark chocolate hair and hazel eyes were especially apparent combined with her pale complexion and thin features. Recently she had gone from merely thin to almost skeletal, which concerned both herself as well as her husband, Draco Malfoy.

She didn't used to be so thin and pale. Her beauty had waned some after her pregnancy with Scorpius, and her health had begun to decline dramatically in the years following his birth. Sometimes she was too weak to even leave the house.

Today, however, she would be damned if she allowed her illness to stop her now. Her temper was fired up, and her target was one Harry Potter. She pushed the elevator button forcefully, and crossed her arms impatiently waiting for the elevator to arrive.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Malfoy, but I'm afraid it's out of order." A man's low, calm voice sounded from behind her. She turned sharply, her eyes meeting a thin, balding man with flaming red hair. On second glance, she could see the wrinkles and the specks of white in his hair, along with his kind blue eyes.

"Excuse me?"

"It's out of order. The fire damaged the shafts, but there are some stairs still intact. Where is it you're trying to get to, and I'd be happy to take you." He replied kindly, noticing her sudden nervousness.

"Well – I – yes. Thank you. I'm looking for the auror department." She said hesitantly. Stairs weren't exactly her favorite thing at the moment. They winded her easily, and if there were a lot of them, as there likely were in a large building such as this, she wasn't sure if even her resolute pride could withstand it.

"Ah. That'll be the second level. Two of my sons work there actually." He said, and motioned for her to follow him. He continued to chatter, and Astoria found herself quite captivated by his relaxed demeanor, despite everything that was going on. Her own father had died when she was a child, and Draco's father wasn't exactly warm and talkative before his death in azkaban.

As they began climbing the stairs, however, her concentration on his voice quickly became her lifeline. Her lungs screamed and her muscles ached, her breaths coming in short pants. Suddenly dizzy, she began to wheeze and clutch the arm-rail for support.

"Almost there, Mrs. Malfoy. Here, allow me." The kind man said quietly, and her mind refocused as she felt his soft but firm grip on her upper arm, steadying her. They stopped for a moment, allowing her to catch her breath. She hated looking so weak, especially in front of a stranger. He seemed to sense this, and so continued his quiet and assuring chatter. Astoria was grateful. When she felt ready, they continued their arduous climb, his hand supporting her the rest of the way.

When they reached the top, he again waited patiently for her to catch her breath. She watched at the flurry of activity that was the auror department – men and women rushing to and fro, purple memos flying in and out, and the popping and cracking sounds of apparition and disapparition as aurors came and went.

"What was your name?" She asked, panting heavily but not wishing to stand in silence.

"Arthur Weasley. I believe you know my daughter Ginny? I think she was in your year at Hogwarts." He said, ignoring the racket from the department and focusing only on her.

"Oh! Ginny, of course. She was a year above me. She, um, well she was very influential in school, actually." She remarked, her breath returning to her finally. "Despite my being in Slytherin, she and Dumbledore's Army gave a lot of us hope during that last year of the war. Not all of us agreed with the new regime, after all." Grimacing inwardly at the memories that statement evoked, she changed the subject. "Thank you very much for your help, by the way. I wasn't expecting such kindness, especially today of all days." She said quietly. Noting the awkwardness of the situation, considering her marital extensions as well as her pure-blood status and Slytherin connections, she continued hastily, "I did enjoy watching Ginny play for the Harpies."

"Oh, she was wonderful, wasn't she? Now who was it you were meaning to see?"

"Harry Potter." She said, realizing belatedly the obvious relationship between Arthur Weasley and the object of her ire.

"Ah, I thought so. His office is right this way. He should be back from interrogations by now." He went on to talk with her about the Holy Head Harpies as they walked past a series of desks, to a large door with a plaque reading, "Head of Magical Law Enforcement: Harry Potter."

"He's right through there. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Malfoy." He shook her hand kindly and bid farewell, leaving her to knock tentatively on the door.

"Come in!" was heard from the other side. Taking a deep breath and sliding her face back to a stony mask, she strode through the door.

A man with messy black hair and bright green eyes stared up at her from a large, ornate desk. Astoria was momentarily stunned to see him after all these years. His hair now had small flecks of grey in places, and he had wrinkles hinting at his eyes and mouth. Dark circles ringed his eyes, like he hadn't slept much. His scar wasn't so bright and red like it had been in school, but it was still visible, and his school-boy cocky demeanor had lessened significantly. His overlarge round glasses had been replaced by oval lenses, more fitting to his face. He looked so… professional. Stacks of files littered the desk, along with many elaborate trinkets and objects – dark wizard catchers and lie detectors, she presumed.

He looked like he had only just arrived, or maybe he was about to leave? Six purple memos suddenly flew in behind her as she stood in the doorway, all vying for Harry's attention. With a flick of his wand, they fell to the desk immobile.

"Oh! Mrs. Malfoy! I thought you were… never mind. Um, what can I do for you?" He asked, obviously surprised to see her of all people in his office.

"You can tell me why a gang of your aurors are currently tearing my house apart looking for Lord Voldemort." She demanded. Harry's eyes widened at her use of his name, as well as the accusation.

"I see. Well, I did order them to your house, along with many other houses of people with known connections to Voldemort. I did not order them to, as you said 'tear your house apart.' But in hindsight I can see why, in their distressed state, they may have misread my intentions." Harry cleared his throat and continued, "I apologize for any harm they've caused. I will personally see to it that all is put a right, and I apologize for their behavior. Would you allow me to accompany you to your home to resolve the issue?" He asked.

"How very diplomatic of you." She said sarcastically, barely controlling herself from rolling her eyes. Since when had Harry Potter become so sophisticated? He hadn't been one for fancy speeches before. _I suppose the years have affected us all,_ she thought. "No, that won't be necessary. Though I would enquire as to why you believe Voldemort would even be in my house in the first place. I am not ignorant of its previous uses and inhabitants, but I happen to trust my husband. He would never return to _him._ I always thought you agreed, or at least you did 17 years ago when you testified for my husband to keep him out of Azkaban."

She waited impatiently for his response, and was surprised when it finally came.

"Mrs. Malfoy, please have a seat." He offered. She sat, her back ramrod straight and her hands clasped in front of her. She looked at him expectantly. "I did not order them there to look for Voldemort. I seriously doubted he would return to Malfoy Manor. Frankly, I doubt he wants much of anything to do with your family right now, except revenge. I ordered them there for your protection. Obviously, they disobeyed my orders. Again, I apologize."

She stared at him in shock. "Our protection? Why would you care?"

"I care about all the families who were terrorized during the war, on both sides. We may not be friendly, but your husband and I at least share mutual respect and I'm surprised your husband still thinks I would also terrorize you."

"Draco wasn't the one who sent me here, and he wasn't even there when your cronies descended. He's gone missing, Mr. Potter, and none of this would have happened if you had just finished the job 17 years ago." She said with venom.

Harry remained impassive as he continued to meet her eyes. The silence stretched on until finally he spoke, his voice softer now - like a plea for her to understand. "I cared 17 years ago, didn't I? I am sorry to hear he's gone missing, as that can only leave one conclusion. I've never believed all of Draco's actions were voluntary, and I'm sure you know better than I do, but it does seem he regretted his involvement. It surprises me to think he has returned to Voldemort, but his disappearance leaves me with few theories to convey otherwise."

She sniffed quietly, surprised to feel tears welling in her eyes. She was cognizant of the fact that she was discussing Draco's personal feelings with someone he had considered an enemy for so many years. "He has always regretted his actions on behalf of the Dark Lord. I know he would never return to him."

Harry nodded, though he obviously doubted her statement. He spoke again. "You have a son, right? If you'd like, on behalf of the ministry, I offer protection to you and your son."

Astoria hesitated. The silence seemed to stretch on as Harry looked at her. "Look, I know it may seem unlikely that we can help –"

"No. It's not that." She said, cutting him off. "I've a letter, you see. To be honest, I wasn't sure if I was going to show it to you or not. I was scared, and angry, and I didn't think you would actually have our best interests at heart, Mr. Potter." She said. Harry's eyebrows creased as she pulled a piece of parchment from inside her cloak, fanning them out on the table.

"Theodore Nott came to visit Draco early this morning. Draco asked for privacy, so I don't know what was said, but they spoke for quite some time. After the morning paper arrived, Draco told me we were leaving. Before I could begin packing, more people came to the house: Gregory and Millicent Goyle, Pansy, Antoine Avery, and that girl – the Carrow twin. I could hear yelling and arguing, but I knew better than to interrupt. I left to help Scorpius pack. I wasn't gone for 10 minutes! But when I went to check on Draco, he had disappeared. They all had. This was left behind."

Astoria pressed the paper flat in an effort to smooth it out. "This is for you."

Harry took the letter, his eyes widening as he read the contents.

 _Potter,_

 _I don't have much time. The dark mark has returned, and I know the Dark Lord is not far behind. I expect to be summoned any moment. Please, keep my family safe. I know we haven't exactly been on best of terms, but unfortunately, you're the only one I can trust. I don't expect to survive this time around, and if I don't, know that I will spend my last breath trying to bring that bastard down._

 _I've pocketed a small trinket – a token with which you can track my whereabouts. Astoria will know how to find me. If I am summoned and forced to his side, I hope it will be able to guide you to his location before I die._

 _The object is -_

Harry stared at the paper. _The object is – is what? What was it?_

He looked at Astoria. "Have you read this?"

"Yes. I'm afraid I don't know what trinket he used. He never mentioned any such thing to me, and since I don't know what it is, I've no idea how he expects me to know how to find him." She said tearily. Harry rested his chin on his folded hands, steepling his fingers. _Like Dumbledore,_ he thought to himself sardonically.

"Your husband is very brave, Mrs. Malfoy. Thank you for bringing this to me. I assure you I will do everything in my power to not only bring down that monster once and for all, but save your husband as well. Now, our first priority as requested by Draco is your and your son's safety. Where is Scorpius?"

"He is with my sister, Daphne." She said thickly, overcome with gratitude.

"Alright. Fetch him, and pack a suitcase. I said I would keep you safe, and there's only one place that comes to mind."

"Where is that, Mr. Potter? Where could be safe from the Dark Lord?" She asked doubtfully.

"Please, call me Harry. You are coming home with me."


	25. Chapter 25

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 25: Draco's Audacity

 _A man stood at the only window in the building, his black robes billowing and his pale skin almost translucent: Lord Voldemort, awaiting the return of his followers._

Draco could only stare upwards at the impressive sight. Despite knowing he was about to die, he couldn't help but be amazed at the Dark Lord's feat. A second resurrection; as incredible as it was horrifying.

Loud cracks of thunder were heard, and Voldemort emerged from the top window, gliding effortlessly to the ground below to survey the host that had gathered. Some thirty witches and wizards knelt before him in awe, delight and outbursts of praise and worship were heard among them as they did so.

Draco tore his eyes from the sight and looked around him, noting the many recognizable faces of those who had fought or supported Voldemort in the last war. The majority were new, however, and they were young like they had barely graduated from Hogwarts.

He felt his pockets quickly, searching for the trinket that served as both a tracker and as the portkey he used to get here. It was a very special little piece; one his wife had given him their first wedding anniversary. _Astoria. Oh merlin, I hope she gets out in time._ He thought desperately. But he couldn't find it! He began searching the ground surrounding him, hoping it had fallen when they had arrived. The faces of his family flashed across his vision as he searched and he couldn't help but dwell on those whom he would likely never see again.

He could still remember that night, 15 years ago, when he had met Astoria for the first time. Astoria's family had always been held in high regard in the Malfoy household, being one of the sacred 28 pure-blood families. At first his parents expected him to fall for Daphne, Astoria's older sister, who had been in his year at Hogwarts. That would never be the case, however.

After the war, it was just Draco and his mother left. They were pariahs in society – hated, feared, and treated like villains who had escaped justice. No one could understand why Harry Potter would stand up for a death eater and a death eater's wife. They were left alone – friendless, and would-be penniless if it weren't for the last of the Black fortune that had been handed down due to Bellatrix's death, and the smart savings of his mother. Draco had been severely depressed, prone to drinking and bouts of grief and guilt over all he had done. His mother feared for him greatly those first couple years.

Two years after the war, when things truly began to calm down and right themselves again, Narcissa began to make efforts; first, making contact with her estranged sister, Andromeda, and her great-nephew Teddy. Then, she began inviting guests over for dinner in an attempt to socialize, though the majority refused her invitations. Those that did come either resulted in tortuously awkward, nearly silent affairs, or they spoke of how sorry they were that the Dark Lord was gone. They spoke of their hatred for Harry Potter and this new regime that had taken over. The visit of Astoria Greengrass was the first time Draco saw the light since his induction into the inner circle all those years before.

Mrs. Greengrass, Astoria's mother, was a tall, stately woman with mousy brown hair, heavy-lidded eyes, and a demeanor that reminded Draco of his aunt Bellatrix. He hated her on sight. Her eldest child Andrew had a permanent glower, and almost immediately proceeded to abuse the name of Potter and share his disappointment at the defeat of the Dark Lord. Apparently, he had always wished to be inducted into the Death Eaters, but Voldemort had not deemed him worthy, and this had caused a permanent chip on his shoulder. Daphne was quiet, and shy, and didn't say anything more than a "please pass the salt" and "thank you." Not that Draco was surprised; she had been the same in school.

Astoria, on the other hand was outspoken and opinionated. Not only that, but she disagreed whole-heartedly with her brother, resulting in quite the row during dinner, to their mother's embarrassment. Draco could still remember the passion with which Astoria defended muggle-borns and the new changes to the ministry.

"Well, I believe it's for the better." She had said. "Harry Potter may be full of himself, but at least he has always acted for what he believes in. Muggle-borns have always been for the good of the community, and that has been the belief of the majority for a _very_ long time now. It's high time we get with it!"

"Astoria, you barely graduated Hogwarts! You know nothing of the world, and you know nothing of the menace they are! _"_ Andrew said angrily.

"Oh, please. Believe what you will, but there are very few who agree with you, and I don't think it is out of my rights to speak up and fight for what I believe in! Voldemort did the same, only he lost. It's not worth fighting for if you aren't willing to possibly lose; not that he ever saw it coming."

" _ASTORIA! You mustn't say such things!"_ her mother hissed.

"HOW DARE YOU SAY HIS NAME!" Andrew bellowed. He would have risen from the table if his mother hadn't gripped his shoulder tightly and held him down.

"Oh Andrew, he's dead! What's he going to do, curse me? Draco, you knew him best out of all of us. Don't you think he really ought to have planned ahead a little? I mean, it was a bit short-sighted of him to think that the entire world would automatically surrender, bow to their knees, and never fight back. Besides, the man is _gone_ , and I don't think he's going to reach up and grab my throat from beyond the grave – if he did decide to I assume he's got plenty more people he would probably want to deal with first, anyhow."

Draco had frozen, completely bewildered at her boldness. "I – well, I suppose he never really did plan for defeat or failure, did he? I guess there is such a thing as over-confidence." He responded. "I don't see him returning any time soon, anyway, so we at least can thank Potter for that." Draco grinned, surprising himself by his own audacity. He had never, ever spoken so lightly of the Dark Lord, and it felt so good to finally be able to do so.

"There you have it. Draco actually _was_ a death eater - unlike _you_ Andrew, so don't start - and even he is not afraid to admit that Lord Voldemort is _dead._ Besides, you may hate Harry Potter for a lot of things, but you can't blame him for being the hero and enforcer of a widely-held belief of equality, especially if you were to consider the muggles themselves. Their own systems of government and freedom are decades, even centuries in fact, ahead of our own, and we ought to catch up. It's for this very reason that I am grateful to the muggle-borns, because if they didn't enter our wizarding community and help push us into a new, forward thinking society, we would still be living in the old ages! We all know that was nothing but slavery, class-systems, and a ridiculous hierarchy of inbred pure-bloods whose only means of enjoyment was drinking tea with gossip and cutting off the heads of house-elves, and other practices that were practically mid-evil. We wouldn't even have the incredible advances in magic and potion-making like we have today if it weren't for muggle-borns!"

Andrew had completely lost his cool at that point, yelling about her Gryffindor-like morals, and the shame she was bringing to their pureblood family traditions. If it hadn't been for Narcissa pleading for everyone to calm down so she could fetch them dessert, Draco was certain curses would have been flying. Andrew for his part refused the offer, and instead strode angrily out of the room to floo home. Astoria had sat there with a smug look on her face and kept flashing glances Draco's way.

Daphne had stared into her plate, silently.

Amidst the shameful apologies of Mrs. Greengrass as the ladies prepared to leave, Draco had pulled Astoria aside.

"I think you are the first person to ever speak that way in this house. I admit I haven't had such entertainment for…well… ever, I think." Astoria giggled at that, causing Draco to smile for the first time in nearly 4 years. He surprised himself when he added quietly, almost to himself, "I'd forgotten what it was like to smile."

Shocked at his own admittance, he made to cover it up but Astoria was too quick. "Maybe you ought to stop taking yourself so seriously then. I bet you'd smile a lot more if you did. Besides, you must remember, Draco Malfoy – _there's nothing to fear anymore_. Let yourself be free!" She whispered playfully, keeping her tone light, yet it was obvious she knew the impact her words would have on him.

His smile immediately disappeared, and in its place was a sense of wonder and revelation. She was right. He let out of gust of air he had been holding and met her eyes. She smiled and looked at him expectantly. "Well? I've said what you needed to hear. What are you going to do about it, Malfoy?"

He smiled back, this time even more relaxed. The light-hearted banter had had a great impact, and for the first time he realized he truly was free. The Dark Lord was gone! There was nothing keeping Draco back from living his life anymore!

"What say we get out of here?" he asked her.

"Well, considering my brother's wrath still awaits me at home, I think that'd be a lovely idea." She whispered conspiratorially. Hand in hand, they snuck out, back to the dining room, through to the kitchen, and out the back door.

Less than a year later they were engaged, and what seemed like in a blink of an eye, they were celebrating their first wedding anniversary. He had gotten her an intricate pearl and seashell necklace made from the coast where they had gone for their honeymoon. She had gotten him a small, gold, trinket…

"My followers, my brothers. I thank you for joining me on this grand occasion of my resurrection. I thank you for your… loyalty." The voice of Lord Voldemort shook Draco from his memories, startling him back to the present. "As you can see, I am indeed returned from that hateful abyss we call death."

 _Where is it? Where is it!?_ He thought to himself, beginning to panic as he watched Voldemort stand before them now. The group had gotten even more numerous, and Draco was astonished. He had never expected there would be such a turnout! It didn't compare to Voldemort's numbers in the war, of course, but most of those had died or been imprisoned!

"You need not know how it has occurred. You need only know that I am Lord Voldemort, and I have come back to you now. I will determine your worth, and I will demand your allegiance. If you fail me, you will be punished most severely; _but,_ if you prove your worth, I will reward you beyond your wildest dreams.

So few have returned from those who stood by me during my previous life…" Voldemort finished, making eye contact with his former followers. He made his way through the crowd, stopping at many former death eaters such as Mullciber, Avery, Goyle and Millicent. Draco saw Andrew in the crowd, almost jumping with excitement, then disappointment as Voldemort paid him no heed. Then, Voldemort was standing before Draco. Draco knew this was it. He fought to occlude his mind, empty it of thought and focus on only one thing! _Astoria, Astoria, Astoria!_

"ARRGGHHH!" he cried out in pain as he felt his mind being ripped and torn to shreds, his memories and thoughts flying past his blurred vision in a rush of color and emotions. He battled and struggled against the invading power in an effort to keep his plan and the trinket a secret.

But it was too late, and before he could even begin to fight back, he felt his defenses fall and Voldemort drew his plan and the trinket to the forefront of his mind. He fell to his knees helplessly as Voldemort invaded his mind and privacy, and ripped his plan from the ruins.

"I regret to announce we have a traitor in our midst." Voldemort whispered. Draco was hauled to his feet, blood streaming from his nose from his efforts to defend himself from Voldemort's ruthless attack of legillimency. He was dropped unceremoniously in the center of the group at Voldemort's feet. Getting his bearings, Draco made to draw his wand but his body erupted in white-hot pain. He writhed and his screams were heard by all those gathered, who only moved closer to watch in fascination and enjoyment.

After what seemed an eternity, the curse was lifted, and Draco laid facedown, his muscles aching and trembling. He felt Voldemort's bare foot on the back of his neck, preventing him from rising.

"My dear Draco, how far you have fallen." He whispered before turning to the crowd, his foot never leaving Draco's neck. "Have you not all heard of the loyalty and the devotion of the Malfoy family? Have you not heard of their high standing when they were in my inner circle? _Have you not heard of their betrayal!?"_ He hissed, and Ollivander moved closer, standing directly behind Voldemort with his wand raised as if prepared to defend his Lord should the need arise. " _No?_ have you never wondered how it is that Draco Malfoy and his beloved mother avoided Azkaban? Draco was the youngest member ever to be inducted into my inner circle, and yet when I was in full power and he had the privilege to have me in his own home he was so _ungrateful."_

Voldemort removed his foot from his neck, and placed his finger under Draco's chin, bidding him rise to his knees. Voldemort delicately removed Draco's wand from his inner cloak pocket, caressing Draco's face with it before handing it to Ollivander. _"_ In fact, even lesser known is that Harry Potter was captured that year, and brought inside the walls of Malfoy Manor. And yet, Draco denied it was Potter, hoping to give 'the Savior of the Wizarding World' a chance to escape."

Shouts of "TRAITOR" and "KILL HIM!" were heard among the glade at this revelation, and Draco shuddered at the wide smile that now graced Voldemort's features. _Should I deny it? Would it do any good at this point?_ He asked himself desperately.

"All in due time, my friends. First, I have one more secret for you. Not only did Draco try to save Potter, and not only did he allow Potter to escape his clutches during that fateful and final battle, but his own mother lied to _me."_

Gasps were heard now, and the bloodlust and energy coming off the crowd was palpable. Voldemort gave a bark of laughter to see their excitement, relishing in their savagery. "You see, when Harry Potter surrendered himself to me in the Forbidden Forest, I struck him with the killing curse - but he did not die. I admit there were indeed certain _aspects_ to my plan that I did not foresee, and as a result I was left ignorant. I did not recognize the power the boy possessed. When he fell from my curse, I sent Narcissa to tell me of his status, and she _deceived me!_ If I had known my curse had been unsuccessful, I would have remedied it immediately, and we would have no need to be here now. _But I, Lord Voldemort, was fooled and betrayed!_

I will have my revenge, starting with the Malfoys. I will now offer the reward of my highest pleasure to anyone who brings me the head of Narcissa Malfoy! Bring me the heads of the Malfoy family! Bring me the head of Harry Potter, and anyone who fought against me in the final battle of Hogwarts, and you will be rewarded." The crowd erupted, and Voldemort turned back to Draco.

"Such a waste." He whispered so only Draco could hear, aiming his wand at Draco's face. "Now, before I end your life, my young Draco, tell me; where is the little golden gift your wife gave to you? I desire to be rid of it. Your plan was a good one, but even you should have realized Lord Voldemort will not be fooled again."

 _Astoria, I love you. This is for you._ Draco clenched his jaw and refused to answer.

"Hm. How long do you really wish to live, Draco? I could always tear it from your mind, but I will give you one more chance. If you tell me now, I will end your life quickly. Believe me when I tell you that dying doesn't hurt a bit. Living, however? Under my rule and held captive as one of my prisoners? You saw what happened to those who displeased me when you were only a child, and I want you to know _your suffering will be far greater than you can even imagine._ Now tell me where it is!"

Draco paled. He had never been a brave man. That was a Gryffindor trait, and as the sorting hat had been only too eager to tell him his first day at Hogwarts, he was a Slytherin through and through. Bravery may not be one his traits, but pride? And an intense loathing for begging and showing weakness? That explained him to a tee.

"I won't beg." He managed to choke out, fear almost immobilizing him. "And even if I did know where it is, I wouldn't tell you." His words had sealed his fate, he knew. The truth was ripped from his mind and the loss of the trinket only moments before was revealed. This only angered the Dark Lord further, and Draco closed his eyes and howled in agony as he was once again put under the cruciatus cruse, praying for the mercy of unconsciousness.

…...

Theodore Nott watched as Draco Malfoy screamed and writhed, his own fear and need for self-preservation preventing him from acting on Malfoy's behalf. Instead, he looked down at the small golden trinket, rubbing it in hopes it would reactivate and portal him away. But he knew it was useless. The Dark Lord would never allow his followers to just come and go so easily.

Theodore creased his brows in guilt as another cry of agony was heard, and he squeezed his fingers tightly over the trinket, allow its sharp tip to cut into his palm - the tip of a triangle, encasing a circle, and halved by one straight rod running down the middle.

 **A/N – DUNDUNDUN! Ooooh did you catch what the trinket is? Did you ever expect Astoria Malfoy to be a seeker of the Deathly Hallows?**

 **Let me know how I'm doing!** **Reviews mean so much to me, and I cherish every single one, and I take everything you say into account:)**


	26. Chapter 26

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 26: Mutual Exasperation

Ginny woke slowly, allowing her body to relax against the blankets and the sunlight to stream through the windows across her arms, warming her. She reached across the bed, searching for her husband as the memories of the day before, and the whole night of reliving Harry's memories, washed over her. After days of fear and worry invading her every thought, it was nice to know Harry was finally back home.

 _Wait... Where is he?_ Ginny started, feeling his absence beside her.

"I'm here, Gin." Came a soft chuckle from the end of the bed. Ginny sighed in relief. Harry was already getting dressed for work, grabbing a fresh shirt from the open suitcase at the floor. He had removed the bandages from his back, leaving a long half-healed cut behind. Ginny could see other bruises and cuts, adding to the array of scars from the war and his job as an auror.

"Where are you going? How long have we been asleep?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, about six hours. It's nearly eleven, and I need to get to the office. Two of Voldemort's men were captured while trying to leave the ministry, and I need to lead their interrogations. They may be able to tell us where Voldemort went. Besides that, it's time to reinstate the Order of the Phoenix. I'm going to be recruiting today and sending for all the old members. Do you think here will be a good place for headquarters?" Harry replied, buttoning up his shirt.

"I suppose so. It's big enough, and already has a fidelius charm in place. I'll get mum to start writing notes when I get downstairs." she replied matter-of-factly before saying imploringly, "It wouldn't do any good if I asked you to stay home today, would it? You've been through an awful lot and the kids have missed you. Not to mention, your parents! Harry, we haven't even talked about this! We haven't had the time!" Ginny looked at Harry, allowing the fogginess of sleep to leave her brain, reminding her of the many pressing matters at hand.

"Yeah, I'll say goodbye to the kids before I leave." Harry said.

"And your parents? When are you planning on talking to them? I'm sure there are a lot of things you both need to say." Ginny was surprised when suddenly Harry's demeanor changed, his brow creasing, his shoulders collapsing in on himself as if a heavy burden had just been laid on them. He looked away from Ginny, busying himself with his cloak and rechecking his pockets – just something to busy himself with, she knew.

"Harry, tell me what you're thinking." She entreated, sitting herself at the end of the bed to be near to him. He met her eyes and she could see the storm brewing beneath them; a storm of uncertainty. He opened his mouth, only to shut it again, not sure how to begin.

"I don't know, Gin. Honestly, I don't know what to think." He finally said quietly. He reached forward and held her hand in his own, sitting beside her on the bed.

"They'll be wanting to talk to you. And here is your chance to talk to them, and finally get to know your mum and dad! I know how long you've wished this could be real."

"Look, I've got to get to the ministry. I just don't have time right now – Dark Lord risen from the dead and all. I'll deal with this later." Harry put his phoenix wand in his pocket, and went to pick up the Elder Wand, only to stop short. Finally, he picked it up and placed it in the briefcase containing his memories. "Hold on to it, would you? I don't think I should be carrying it around with me, just in case."

Ginny nodded, worry creasing her features as she watched Harry, suddenly so unsure of himself. What was he thinking? If it were Fred who had come back, she would have jumped at the chance to talk to him again and tell him everything! Why was Harry being like this?

She made to speak again, but Harry resolutely walked out the door, avoiding the end of the conversation. She huffed and began getting ready for the day, taking an extra long shower and taking her time. By the time she got downstairs for breakfast, she was lucky to see she had missed the rush of nieces and nephews. They were all leaving the dining area, on their way to the basement which served as their play room.

She opened the door, breathing in the delicious scent of bacon and eggs. Her mother was in the kitchen, humming an old tune from Celestina Warbeck, and Audrey was doing the dishes by hand. At the table sat George and Angelina, Fleur, Victoire and Teddy, Ron and Hermione, and Lily and James.

"Where is Harry?" Lily asked when she saw Ginny.

"Oh, um, he left already. Lots of work to do, being the auror head and all."

"Wait, auror head? As in, head of the auror department? You didn't say that last night! Isn't he only 33?" James asked, shocked.

"Yeah well, we try not to let it get to his head." George said, wagging his eyebrows cheekily. Ron snorted, and Hermione rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help but smile.

Ginny sat heavily, and thanked her mother as a plate was placed in front of her. She quickly let everyone know about the order meeting that would be taking place, explaining to her mother the need for multiple notes. Everyone was enthusiastic as the prospect, and they listened as James and Lily recounted stories from when they were first inducted into the order. Soon, conversation carried on, and Ginny listened lightly to Ron explaining to James the changes in the ministry since the war and telling funny stories of things he and Harry used to do as kids, and Hermione talking about her work at the ministry and her fight for equality among the other races. "You know, that was something I always thought was ridiculously unfair and old-fashioned! House-elves ought to have equal rights, and it's about time someone stood up for them!" Lily was answering, excitedly.

George was now talking about the joke-shop, and his latest products, making James snicker and reminisce on his old days. "Oh, you should have seen old Padfoot! Those damn mirrors were the only things that made detention bearable."

"Wait! I'd forgotten! Harry said you, Sirius, and Lupin were the original marauders! Sirius was Padfoot, Lupin was Moony, and you were Prongs! You were our heroes, Mr. Potter! Fred and I nicked your map from Filch! It was the best thing we ever did!" George's obvious omission of Wormtail was thankfully ignored, and after swallowing, James continued on happily.

"Oh, please, call me James! And I'm glad it came to some sort of use after we left."

Ginny smiled into her food, laughing to herself at how ridiculous it all was. _Well, since when has life ever been ordinary or expected?_ She thought. Soon though, their light-hearted conversation came to an end. George and Angelina rose from the table to go help with the clean-up efforts at the ministry. Harry, Arthur, Bill, Percy, and Charlie had already left before Ginny came down. Ron and Hermione also prepared to go, but Molly forced them back in their seats.

"Don't even think about it! Your injuries are not fully healed, and if I had been awake when Harry left I would have forbid he go anywhere, either! You may be adults, but I am still your mother!" She continued to huff under her breath that she "would rather no one left the house at all", and that the fidelius charm was "basically useless since everyone insisted on going out and about anyway." Suddenly, her muttering was abruptly halted by a raised voice.

"Molly! MOLLY?!" The group started as the yelling got closer to the dining area, and Arthur strode through the door. "There you are! We have some more guests that Harry wants to come and stay with us. We need a note to reveal our location."

"Well, alright dear, but for who? The whole family is here…"

"For Astoria Malfoy and her son."

"WHAT!?" Ron suddenly bellowed, dumbfounded. "WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN'S BOLLUCKS IS MALFOY COMING HERE FOR!?"

"He didn't say _Draco_ Malfoy, Ronald. He said Astoria and her son!" Hermione corrected him.

"Her son!? You mean scruples, or scruffy, or something?" Ron said again, just as open-mouthed as before, though thankfully not yelling this time.

"Yes, Astoria and her son _Scorpius._ I don't know the details, but apparently they are in need of protection and Harry feels obligated for some reason or another." Arthur replied, taking the note from Molly. He turned on the spot and went back out the front door, disappearing with a faint _pop!_

"You've got to be joking." Ron muttered.

….

Astoria opened her eyes, nearly falling from dizziness. Apparition didn't normally make her feel so sick, but it had been a long day, and her health was quickly waning. Harry steadied her, and held the door open for her to pass the threshold. She still couldn't believe she had agreed to come and live with _Harry Potter_ and the _Weasleys_ of all people!

It seemed her thoughts were mirrored in the faces that greeted her as they walked through to the dining area. Each face was frozen with shock and apprehension, and if it weren't for Arthur and Harry breaking the silence with introductions, Astoria doubted a word would ever have been spoken. Ginny Potter offered Astoria an open seat beside her at the table, and Arthur offered to take their suitcases to their room.

"Hey! I heard the door! Who's here?" came a small voice behind them. Astoria turned as a small boy with messy black hair and bright green eyes came through the door. "Dad! You're back from work! Good!" Harry grinned and hugged the boy, who could be none other than his son.

"Albus, this is Astoria Malfoy and her son Scorpius. Maybe you could bring Scorpius downstairs and introduce him to the cousins? They're going to be staying with us for a while." Albus nodded energetically, and offered a hand to Scorpius. Harry smiled to himself sardonically to see Albus extend a hand of friendship to the boy who was almost the spitting image of Draco Malfoy.

"Hello, I'm Albus Potter, nice to meet you." Scorpius shook the hand hesitantly, introducing himself in turn. They turned to leave the kitchen, and Harry could hear Albus say, "Are you going to Hogwarts next year? What house do you think you'll be in?" before their voices faded from hearing.

Harry refocused back on the group in front of him, grinning inwardly at Ron's incredulous look concerning a Malfoy in the midst of his family. Harry proceeded to explain the situation, and the risks Draco was taking to help bring down Voldemort.

"Well, I'll be damned. Malfoy finally grew a pair – "

" _Ron!"_

 _"_ I mean, that's really brave of him."

Harry laughed along with the rest, meeting the eyes of his mother and father in the process. His laugh died off, and he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Well, I've got to get back." Harry pecked Ginny on the cheek and collected the handful of notes from Molly for the Order members, then headed to the front door to apparate back to the ministry. He had nearly reached the door when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Wait! Don't you want to stay for some lunch, at least? or early dinner, rather?" Lily laughed nervously. "Or maybe James and I could come with! Maybe we could help recruit, or something?"

"No! I mean, thank you for the offer, but I've got to go. And I appreciate you want to help, but there's nothing you can do at the moment." Harry replied, turning to his mother. He couldn't meet her eyes, and fidgeted in the silence, unsure of what to do. Lily could see his unease, concern and confusion creasing her brow.

"Sweetie, you don't have to do this alone, you know. You'll run yourself into the ground. Besides, I was hoping we might have some time to, I dunno, talk?" She extended her hand, hoping to give him some form of comfort. He flinched back, causing her to withdraw it immediately.

"I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…?" She began, unsure why she would elicit such a reaction from him.

"No, no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…I mean, I just… I gotta go." Harry stuttered. He stood for a second more, before turning and leaving out the front door. She heard the faint _pop!_ of his departure, then turned around to head back to the kitchen. She walked slowly, her emotions flustered by the encounter.

As she reentered the kitchen, she was relieved to see Harry's leaving had caused the majority to follow suit. Only Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and James were left in the room.

"What's wrong, darling?" James asked, sensing her thick emotions immediately. Lily sniffed, and fought back some tears as she recounted what had just occurred. James pulled Lily down beside him, and looked expectantly to the three people who knew Harry the best.

Ginny frowned sympathetically. "I'm so sorry, Lily. He just – it's hard for him sometimes to express what he's feeling. He tends to bottle things up inside. He doesn't know any other way, I'm afraid."

"I think he is being an absolutely ridiculous! I mean, yes a lot of things are happening right now, but this is the chance he has always wanted! It's what anyone would want!" Hermione ranted.

The girls all crossed their arms in irritation. Quietly, but gaining volume as his confidence grew, Ron spoke up.

"Well, if you think about it, Harry never knew his parents except for twice when they appeared as ghosts – both of which were times when he was basically surrendering himself to Voldemort and death. Last night he even said that when he died in the forbidden forest, he had to _choose_ to stay here and not move on, and since then he has done everything he can to leave that all behind him and start over!

I don't think he's not happy you're here, it's just – like Ginny said, he doesn't know what to do now. I mean, he's over 10 years older than you both, and all you know about him is what he showed us last night in the pensieve, which he didn't even want anyone to know about! Necessity and extreme measures forced him to reveal his innermost secrets, and frankly the two of you are basically strangers! The only people who knew you and could tell him stories about you all died nearly 20 years ago! If you go and have a 'talk' what will you talk about? His childhood? Hogwarts? What's he going to say? His childhood was shite, the Dursleys were terrible, and Hogwarts was great when you don't include the near-death experiences, battles with Voldemort, and watching a bunch of people die every year. He didn't even graduate!

He doesn't want to talk about it, and it's not like he's going to just shove you into his pensieve for hours on end! What's he supposed to do? Meanwhile, Voldemort is back, and once again the wizarding world is depending on him to fix it. He's under a lot of stress!" Ron breathed heavily as if he had just run a mile, trying to catch his breath. "I mean, or not. Maybe I'm wrong." He shrugged his shoulders self-consciously and dug in to some left-over pie he'd been working through all morning.

Hermione looked at her husband, her face filled with wonder. "Ronald, forgive me for ever saying you had the emotional range of a teaspoon. That was brilliant."

"Always the sense of surprise." Ron replied, swallowing hard on his pie and smiling sappily at her.

"Oh, get a room." Ginny chuckled. She then looked at James and Lily, sobering. "He's right though. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that's exactly what Harry is thinking. It makes perfect sense."

"Well, what do we do now? How do we fix it?" James asked.

"I don't know if you can. You could try talking to him, but honestly, I think he will just have to come to you. Just be there for him. That's what we've all had to do throughout the years." Hermione said.

"Remember those months after the war, when all the funerals were finished and all the reporters were camped outside the house, trying to catch a glimpse of the "Savior of the Wizarding World"? All any of us could do was try to live through the pain day after day, and try to get past the nightmares. Harry couldn't stop feeling guilty for all of it. He blamed himself for everything that had happened and everyone we had lost, and he tried to distance himself from us. It's how he handles things – solitude. When he finally snapped out of it, it still took him until almost our wedding to tell me everything. It just takes time, and a ridiculous amount of patience on our part. That's what he's like." Ginny said pensively, her eyes misted over in memory.

"Well, we have all the time in the world. I don't mind waiting, if that's what it takes." James nodded in agreement as Lily made that statement, and the group smiled in mutual exasperation. They continued to talk for hours, reminiscing on old times and things they'd been through together.

Suddenly, the door opened with a Bang! and Molly rushed inside, Scorpius trailing behind.

"Where's Harry? Has he left already?" she asked fretfully.

"Yes, he left hours ago. Why? What's happened?" asked Ginny.

"Astoria has left. She said she'd realized what the trinket was, told me to watch Scorpius, and left right out the front door!" The group paled, and it was obvious what the others were thinking.

 _If she was right, and she could get the trinket, it would be able to lead right to Voldemort._


	27. Chapter 27

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 27: Marked

Henrick Ollivander was only a boy the first time he visited his great-great-uncle's shop in Diagon Alley. He could still remember the anticipation he felt knowing he would finally meet the renowned and celebrated Gerrick Ollivander! He was famous throughout the wizarding world, and despite being related, Henrick had never actually met him at any of the family gatherings.

Henrick swallowed hard, his palms sweaty, as his mother opened the shop door. The tinkling bells rang, alerting Gerrick of visitors.

"Ah, you must be little Henrick. I've heard so much about you from your mother's letters! It's a pleasure." His uncle said, extending his hand to his nephew. Henrick took it shakily, suddenly embarrassed at how wet his palms were. His uncle only smiled.

"So, your mother says you have an interest in wand-making?"

"Yes, sir."

"Please, Uncle Gerrick. And what is it about wand-making that interests you, m'boy?"

"I love that wandlore is so ancient and complex, and yet so simple at the same time. They're just like people, really. They're not just ingredients, but memory and emotion. It's hard to know what makes them tick. They can be so reluctant to give their allegiance, and yet be won so easily." Henrick said confidently.

Gerrick's silver eyebrows rose almost to his hairline at the response. "That is very perceptive of you." He said before turning to his mother, "You say he is only 11?"

"Yes. He'll be going to Hogwarts this fall. My younger step-brother, Xenophilius, says he is a genius. A prodigy, perhaps. I've no idea what he will achieve, but I know it will be great." She replied brightly, squeezing her son's hand.

"I don't doubt that… so he will be needing a wand, I take it?"

"Yes, Uncle. There was no other place we would even consider going." Gerrick nodded graciously and flicked his wand. Measuring tapes immediately flew out from under the front desk and began measuring every inch of Henrick, making him go cross-eyed and nervous. After a time, Gerrick returned from the back room carrying a load of boxes. He scolded the measuring tapes, which dropped to the floor and scooted back to the front desk, looking quite dejected. Gerrick rolled his eyes.

"They're so touchy. I mean really, there's no need to be so sensitive!" He then proceeded to present Henrick with all kinds of wands. The phoenix wand shocked his arm painfully, the cherry wand blasted flames, and the yew wand flipped out of his fingers and knocked him on the nose, causing Henrick to cry out, rubbing it painfully.

Finally, he was given a wand of elm, with the core of a dragon heart string. It felt warm to the touch, and he smiled as if he had just found a best friend. The measuring tapes seemed to peek out from under the desk, as if excited for him.

"Ah, I believe we have found the one. How does it feel to you?" his uncle asked.

Henrick only smiled widely, and then proceeded to swish the wand violently through the air, causing a powerful wind to rush the room. Papers flew, the measuring tapes cowered in fear, and with a final rush, the furniture rocked and tipped. His uncle barely kept his footing, but Henrick's mother was thrown against the wall behind her, crumpling to the ground with a cry of pain.

Henrick lowered his wand, and looked at it, enthralled. "It's brilliant." He said, ignoring his mother who was helped to her feet by his Uncle Gerrick. "It's like I'll never be lonely again."

This statement was met with curious glances, with a mix of fear in the case of Gerrick, but Henrick remained ignorant of their reaction, having eyes only for his new wand.

"Are you alright, dear? Are you hurt?" Gerrick asked his mother, who winced, but waved him off. She was too focused on her son, who was still looking at his wand with reverence and excitement. Gerrick also turned to Henrick.

"That was very impressive spell-work. Did you use an incantation?" he asked.

"No, sir. I don't know any yet." Henrick responded, finally giving his attention back to them. "My wand is powerful, isn't it?"

"Oh, the wand chooses the wizard, my boy. You seem to have more power than you know… You'd best be careful. You hurt your mother accidentally, Henrick. You ought to apologize." Gerrick said in a fatherly tone.

Henrick looked at his mother and her slightly frazzled state. Without a word, he turned back to his uncle. "Do you think they would mind if I practiced some spells before I enter Hogwarts? I want to be prepared." Gerrick raised his eyes at the boy, and opened his mouth to reprimand him for the lack of apology, but was stopped short by his niece's hand on his elbow.

"I'm sure they wouldn't mind, dear. You don't need it, of course. You are a genius, and you could leave your classmates far behind without even trying." She said, kneeling in front of him with a smile. "I am so proud of you. Now that you have a wand, you will change the world."

He beamed at her. "I know." He said.

…

That fall, he went to Hogwarts. After barely a second of contemplation, the hat cheerfully placed him in Slytherin. Henrick could have bursted with pride, thinking of how proud his mother would be. She had been a Slytherin, too. One of the few in their family. He sometimes thought about his father, and what his father would think of his successes and endeavors. Unfortunately, his father had been what is commonly referred to as "a one night stand" when his mother was still in school. She has been lucky enough to graduate before showing too much, but her mistake soon became obvious when she tried to work and move on. The social stigma forced her to return home.

Henrick never discovered who his father was, and his mother refused to talk about him. All she would say is that he was brilliant. She claimed it was from his father that Henrick got all his incredible abilities. His intellect quickly became apparent to his teachers, and he easily excelled far ahead of the rest of his class mates. His teachers adored him, and titles like Prodigy and Genius were used often.

His first year, the grand ideals of one who called himself Lord Voldemort had found its way into the halls of Hogwarts. They spread like wildfire. Gryffindors fought it, and cursed the name of You-Know-Who, but the Slytherins welcomed it. His class-mate, Dolores Umbridge, strived to convince him of the Dark Lord's genius and power. Henrick was easily swayed by the promises made by the Dark Lord to his followers, and he was greatly intrigued. Henrick had yet to decide when in his third year, the unthinkable happened.

The event that rocked the entire wizarding world changed Henrick's life forever. A baby named Harry Potter defeated the greatest dark wizard of all time, and hundreds were arrested and charged with treason. Many were sentenced to Azkaban without even a trial. His mother had been one such person.

Henrick was called into the Headmaster's office less than a week after the Potter event.

"Mr. Ollivander, please take a seat." Headmaster Dumbledore said solemnly. Horace Slughorn, his Head of House, was already seated in front of the desk.

"Have I done something wrong, sir?" he asked innocently.

"No, no, of course not. No, but I have some news that you will trouble you." Henrick sat heavily, his nerves on edge. As he listened to the Headmaster's story, dread filled his stomach.

His mother had been accused of consorting with Voldemort and his followers. When the aurors had showed up at their house to arrest her, she refused to comply. She was no match for so many. Instead of being taken to Azkaban, she chose to take her own life instead, leaving Henrick an orphan.

Devastated, Henrick considered many times as to why his mother chose to do such a thing; however, he would not discover the truth for many years to come. Any money or properties that was left to his mother when her parents passed away was seized by the ministry, leaving Henrick penniless, and hopeless.

And very alone.

Henrick was sent to live with his mother's step-brother, Xenophilius Lovegood and his wife of two months, Pandora. Xenophilius was an eccentric man, who was trying to make ends meet with his writing, and Pandora was an extremely intelligent, vibrant witch who worked as an unspeakable. Henrick enjoyed many of Xenophiliu's tales, though he believed in hardly any of them. That is, until he was told the legend of the Deathly Hallows.

It soon became an obsession: the resurrection stone to speak to his mother and find out once and for all why she did it! The elder wand to exact revenge on those monsters who forced her to such an abominable thing. He didn't care much for the invisibility cloak, except in order to complete the three hallows and become the Master of Death. But he was still a student, and one could only do so much searching at such a young age.

Every summer, he would intern at his great-great-uncle's shop, learning more and more about wandlore and wandmaking – but his deep love for the craft soon became cold and shallow as the years went by. What used to be a love for all wands and their unique personalities was replaced by his desire for only one wand. By his fifth year his obsession turned to what his uncle Gerrick would later refer to as _madness_. Not even his own was good enough anymore, and there began to develop a distance between himself and what he once referred to as a friend. His wand began to malfunction – like it was jealous or angry with him, which only increased his resentment for it.

Despite this, Henrick still graduated top of his class. He applied for an apprenticeship at his uncle's wand shop, secretly in hopes that the travels required for such an employment would allow him to search for the hallows more openly. His uncle knew his nephew's heart was no longer in it, and he denied Henrick the apprenticeship. He would forever hold a grudge because of it.

Angry, penniless, and with the dark reputation and stigma accompanying the son of not only one of Voldemort's collaborators, but also a suicide, made it nearly impossible for him to get a job in the public eye. And so, he applied for a job as an unspeakable.

He applied for the department containing the studies of life and death. He studied the death chamber, and the veil. He began experimenting. When it was discovered he was trying to find a way to bring his mother back from the dead, he was immediately reassigned to the Time department.

Rejected, and angry once again, he continued his work half-heartedly. He would read the Daily Prophet to catch up on the news, only vaguely interested in the exploits of the famous Harry Potter and his return to Hogwarts and the Wizarding World.

He read as Harry Potter won the Triwizard Tournament and announced the return of Lord Voldemort. He thought Potter had gone mad along with the rest of the wizarding world. But hints began to be dropped that perhaps Potter wasn't crazy after all, such as when his own coworker, Broderick Bode, died mysteriously after trying to steal a prophecy; a prophecy concerning Harry Potter and the Dark Lord that had yet to be fulfilled… but his suspicions weren't confirmed until the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, along with the rest of the wizarding community. That morning when he entered his office only to see the destruction that had been inflicted, he began to dwell again on what it all could mean.

And then Lord Voldemort took over the wizarding world, and Uncle Gerrick was abducted. If Henrick had still been a child, he may have cared, but not now. His uncle had all but disowned him for his "ridiculous" belief in the hallows, and his efforts in resurrecting his mother. They had had a tremendous row when he was denied the apprenticeship, and hadn't spoken since. So, Henrick assumed his uncle had been killed, and barely mourned.

He kept his head down, silently relishing in the new regime that quickly ruled the ministry. He respected and admired Voldemort's power and genius. In his heart, he believed that Voldemort must be the master of the hallows, because how else had he been able to return from the dead? He strived to prove himself, so he might one day meet the great Dark Lord who had accomplished so much, and perhaps know for sure that the hallows did exist, and that bringing back his mother was possible.

He grinned inwardly as he watched all the fools and the cowards that had caused his mother to kill herself be arrested, killed, and persecuted. He watched with pride to see his old classmate and friend rise in the ministry ranks. Dolores caused him to do the same, rising in promotion and recognition, until he was head of the Unspeakable department. Finally, he had free reign.

However, in the spring of May 1998, the world erupted in joyous chaos as Harry Potter defeated Lord Voldemort once and for all. Suddenly, Henrick's beliefs and ideals were bashed against the rocks, and he was forced to downplay and hide the extent of his support and participation in Voldemort's schemes. He was forced to realize that perhaps Voldemort was not the master of the hallows after all. Perhaps they truly did not exist.

Henrick was demoralized and heart-broken. He met with Uncle Gerrick a few months later, having finally received word that he was okay, and had decided to reopen the shop. Henrick stopped by, begging details as to why Gerrick was abducted.

His uncle could only express his sorrow and apologies for saying that Henrick was mad and for telling him the Hallows did not exist.

"I will not tell you how I know, nor who has them now, but I am sorry my boy. I know that the Hallows do exist, and they are truly powerful. I do not wish you to go looking for them again, as I also know that you will never find them; but I want to say I am sorry for treating you so poorly. I offer my sincerest apologies." He had said, extending his hand in familial love.

Henrick could only stare in shock. He falsely gave his forgiveness, his deep-rooted obsession sparking once more, and his search intensified more than ever before.

For years he searched. He found a trail that ran cold, ending with the wand-maker Gregorovitch. He was at a loss – a complete loss, until he met Andrew Greengrass. Andrew was also a believer of the Hallows, as were his whole family due to their father. Andrew told him a secret; a secret only known to the members of the wizangamot during the year 1998, and to those of the Malfoy family. Andrew had overheard a conversation one night between Astoria, Draco Malfoy, and Draco's mother soon after his sister had married into their family.

"Harry Potter had been hit by the killing curse that night in the Forbidden Forest, and Narcissa Malfoy lied about it! That was how she escaped Azkaban! Don't you see? Who could survive the killing curse but the _Master of Death_?" Andrew had said conspiratorially one evening in a private room at the Three Broomsticks. "Not that that does us any good, mind. I'm not likely to go up against Harry Bloody Potter, am I? I sure couldn't get the drop on him, nor anyone else I know of, even if he didn't have the Elder Wand!" Ollivander nodded, his mind racing. His hopes soared.

Was this it? If Harry Potter could withstand yet another killing curse, and go on to defeat the greatest Dark Lord to have ever lived, did this mean he had finally found the true Master of Death? Henrick snuck into the old files of the Wizangamot, and found recorded memories of witnesses of the final battle, where Harry Potter spoke with Lord Voldemort about the Elder Wand and its allegiance.

 _Does Potter have the hallows now? If he did, he would be the most powerful man in all the world! Why would he keep it a secret? Doesn't he realize the great potential of such power? How could I possible hope to defeat such an adversary?_ Henrick would think to himself, over and over, until… a plan was struck like a match to its box – a plan that would not only bring him the resurrection stone, but assure that he be on the winning side of such an attempt.

If he went after Potter himself, he would quickly be defeated. Like Greengrass said, Potter was too powerful, even without the use of the hallows. If Henrick sought to become a new leader such as Grindewald and Voldemort before him, an endeavor such as that would never succeed, he was sure. Potter and the ministry had been revolutionized, and they would quickly and efficiently squash any such attempts at overtaking them. Not only that but the whole of Britain and its people had been changed as well. They would not support such a coupe, and they would fight against him. He did not have the ability to spark such fear and chaos as those men did before – not when this new generation were so much more independent and courageous, having fought and survived the last war. Not to mention, their loyalty to Potter was incomparable, even to Dumbledore's standards.

But he had not wasted his time as an unspeakable. He had studied many theories concerning resurrection and perhaps if he could bring back one who _could_ spark fear – even turn fear into a forest fire that would inflict chaos and dissention among all who once stood so tall, maybe he had a chance. If he could cause doubt to fester and breed in the minds of Harry Potter's staunch admirers, maybe he could bring the world to its knees.

If he could bring back Lord Voldemort, he would be the most powerful man in history – a Dark Lord at his beck and call, and the power to command armies from the sidelines. The man behind the curtain, the puppeteer hidden in the shadows.

He would have to sacrifice the Elder Wand, but he was willing to do that. And he could have the resurrection stone to himself.

Yes. He could do that.

…

Ollivander gave a sigh of pleasure, watching his greatest achievement extend a hand, beckoning him forward. He bowed in front of his master, the first to receive the Dark Mark of the Risen Followers. Kneeling in front of him worshipfully, his gazed at the ground and extended his left arm.

"This shall mark the first of my disciples. Only those who are worthy shall receive this great reward of being in my inner circle." Voldemort instructed, extending his wand to touch the pale skin of his most faithful.

Ollivander hissed, the smell of burning flesh reaching his nostrils before the pain hit. He clamped his mouth shut, refusing to show weakness. After what seemed an eternity, but still too short a time to feel the touch of his beloved, the wand was removed and Ollivander's arm dropped to his chest. He looked at the brand and was surprised by what he saw.

A black snake was devouring a phoenix as it burst into flames. He looked up at Voldemort curiously. "It is a new regime, Ollivander, and I will be greater than ever before." Voldemort whispered. Then, he flicked his head in dismissal, making way for the next follower to receive his mark. Only a few received it that day, including Grey, Mullciber, Andrew Greengrass, Goyle and Millicent, Pansy and Avery, and the few others who had accompanied Ollivander to the ministry.

When it was done, Voldemort made a last request to the rest of the gathered. "Now is your time to prove to me your allegiance and worthiness to become my own; to enter my inner circle. Bring me the heads of those I have previously named, and bring me the head of the Minister of Magic! I want the world to know that I do not bow to the ministry's authority, for I am greater than them all! They will bow to me, for I AM THE NEW REGIME!" His orders were met with enthusiastic cheering, and with a flick of his bone-white wand, he lifted the anti-travel wards. With cracks and pops the crowd dispersed, leaving only Voldemort and his recently marked followers behind.

"Now, we begin preparations for defeating my greatest enemy of all: Harry Potter." He said, beckoning for them to follow him into the fortress. Ollivander trembled with anticipation; he had the perfect plan.

 **A/N – What do you think of Ollivander's backstory? Realistic? Not so much?**

 **I sometimes look at all these followers of Voldemort and they all seem so one-sided. They aren't willing/smart enough to do all the work themselves, instead they're content to worship someone else and beg for his approval. I look at Ollivander a little differently – a genius, the mind behind the mastermind.**

 **Also, trivial detail if you were curious about why I chose what wand I did for Henrick Ollivander.**

 _ **From pottermore: Elm**_ _ **wands**_ _ **prefer owners with presence, magical dexterity and a certain native dignity. Of all wand woods, elm, in my experience, produces the fewest accidents, the least foolish errors, and the most elegant charms and spells; these are sophisticated wands, capable of highly advanced**_ _ **magic**_ _ **in the right hands (which makes it highly desirable to those who espouse the**_ _ **pure-blood**_ _ **philosophy).**_

 _ **Lucius Malfoy had a wand made of Elm.**_

 _ **Dragon Heart-String - Powerful, easy to learn spells though can easily be committed to another owner.**_

 _ **Hermione Granger and Bellatrix Lestrange are two individuals who had Dragon Heart String as the core of their wands.**_

 _ **Another interesting fact that I like is:**_

 _ **Hawthorn wands may be particularly suited to**_ _ **healing magic**_ _ **, but they are also adept at**_ _ **curses**_ _ **, and it has been generally observed that the hawthorn wand seems most at home with a conflicted nature, or with a**_ _ **witch**_ _ **or**_ _ **wizard**_ _ **passing through a period of turmoil. Hawthorn is not easy to master, however, and one should only ever consider placing a hawthorn**_ _ **wand**_ _ **in the hands of a witch or wizard of proven talent.**_

 _ **Draco Malfoy had a Hawthorn wand… boy does that fit him or what?**_

 _ **JK Rowling is so incredible!**_


	28. Chapter 28

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 28: Telesol

"Have you heard of the two-way mirror?" Astoria asked her husband, sitting across from him at dinner one evening. They had a grand table at the manor, and custom required they both sit at the far ends, despite being the only ones eating dinner. He was hunched over, stress evident in the tension of his shoulders.

"No, Astoria. I've not. Why would that be relevant?"

"Because, I think I've found a solution, and it works just like a two-way mirror." Draco raised his head from his hands to look at his wife of barely one year. It had been a sore subject the past couple months, this lack of a solution. Her mother was ill – very ill. She would likely die that year, but she had moved to Spain and refused to come back to England. Neither Daphne nor Andrew were willing to go and be with her.

Astoria was staring at him with big eyes, her mouth hinting at a grin, her eyebrows quirked playfully. In her hand she held a small velvet box.

"I know it's a little late for our anniversary, but still close enough. I leave in two days, and I have it on good authority that these are almost as good as a two-way mirror." She said.

"Except I still don't know what a two-way mirror is, nor what the point of those are. Fill me in, dear?" he asked, his dark mood refusing to lift.

"When I leave for Spain the day after tomorrow, we won't be able to contact each other-"

"Yes, I am aware. My bloody parole doesn't allow any contact nor travel outside of Britain, we've been over this!"

"- _Except_ if they don't know you're doing it…" she winked conspiratorially. Draco's brow crinkled, curiosity warring with his desire to not give the aurors any reason to arrest him. He didn't answer, and after a moment's pause his wife moved seats to sit right next to him, her thin fingers closing around his wrist, turning it so his hand was palm up. She placed the box in his palm, her excitement almost bubbling over.

"Ok, I'll bite. What have you done?" he asked slowly.

"Open, and find out!" Draco did as he was told, revealing two identical necklaces, each with a strange symbol attached as a pendant – a small gold triangle, encasing a circle, and a straight line running down the middle.

"I thought it was the man who was supposed to buy his woman jewelry." He joked.

"Unless his woman is cleverer, and has a special purpose behind it." He raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for her to continue. She held up one of the pendants. "It's a telesol. It's a way for two souls to communicate. When we are both wearing it, we can feel the other's feelings, and we can hear the other's thoughts."

Draco took the necklace she handed him with awe, "How did you manage it? I've never heard of such a thing."

"Oh, I hadn't either. It wasn't even my idea."

"Well whose was it then?"

"Remember I went to the ministry this morning to confirm my travel details? I met a man there, an unspeakable actually, who was wearing a necklace, very much like the one my father used to wear. You know, the family heirloom?"

"Yes, that weird triangle symbol thing, go on..."

"It's not just a weird symbol, Draco, it's from a story which I know you wouldn't believe. Anyway, we chatted about it a while, and he recognized my name when I gave it. He said he heard about my mother and he offered his condolences on her condition. I told him how difficult it was going to be not being able to be with you or talk to you, and he just pulled two more necklaces out! His name was –"

"You mean to tell me some stranger recognized you and gave you an unknown necklace with an unknown enchantment, and you just took it!? How could you do such a thing!?" Draco said incredulously, raising his voice in anger. "Has being married to _me_ of all people taught you absolutely nothing!?"

"Excuse me, but he seemed perfectly kind, and he knew my brother!" she replied indignantly. "I'm not an idiot! Why are you being so cross about it!?"

"Why? WHY!? Because you don't just _do that_ Astoria! You've no idea what ulterior motive they might've had! It could have been cursed for all you know!"

"Why would someone want to curse me!?"

"WHO KNOWS WHY! THAT'S NOT THE POINT! WHO SAYS IT WAS YOU THEY WERE AFTER!?" Draco was on his feet now, the chair falling behind him with a thud. Astoria stayed in her seat, her posture defensive and stubborn.

"Don't you speak to me that way." She said in a clipped tone, like a mother speaking to a child. "What are you really mad about?"

Draco began pacing furiously. "Astoria, sometimes you can be so naïve about the world. It's the innocent bystander, the fool who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, who takes the brunt of the hit! I know that better than anyone, and I would think being married to me would have reminded you of it before you just took some random item from someone you don't even know!" He said heatedly, his efforts to keep his temper under control failing miserably.

Astoria could only stare, hurt. "Of course I've learned. I was there, too. I was at Hogwarts through it all, too. I had my own lessons to learn, but unlike _some_ I don't let it RULE MY LIFE! You say that only because all you've ever known is darkness and hate, and so that's what you expect every time. But Draco, the world is changed! Don't you see that!? Sometimes a gift is just that! A gift!" She implored, rising to her own feet and walking to his side.

"The enemy is gone, Draco, and you were pardoned for your actions against Rosmerta and Katie Bell. This isn't the same thing." She whispered, reaching for his hand. He flinched at first, drawing it away and tensing at her mention of his past sins. But after a moment, he relaxed, and allowed her touch.

"I'm sorry. You're right, I – I guess I overreacted." He relented. "But I still wish you would be more careful. The enemy is gone, yes, but it wasn't that long ago, and you should never let your guard down. I can't lose you, especially when a little exercised caution could have saved you." He said, lowering his gaze to meet hers. She smiled, forgiving him. He held her in his arms, and just like that, their fight was over, like always.

"Well, shall we try it, then?" she asked, after a few moments, allowing their emotions to calm down. He nodded hesitantly, but grabbed her hand before she could reach for the box. Placing his own hand in the box first, he waited apprehensively. When nothing happened, he allowed her to take the other one, and together, they placed the necklaces over their heads. Astoria twirled the circle three times, and then smiled at the look on Draco's face.

 _Can you hear me?_ She asked, her mind forming the words and her lips remaining shut.

"Yeah! I mean…" Draco shut his mouth, and squinted in concentration. _Yes! I can hear you! I…I can feel you, too. Weird…_

 _I know! It's like I have too much emotion – like it's too big for my chest. But it doesn't feel bad, though. It feels good... like another part of myself._

 _So, no matter how far away you are, we'll be able to talk like this?_

 _Exactly. And no one will be the wiser._

Two days after that evening, Astoria took an international portkey to Spain. Two months later, she discovered that she was pregnant. Draco wanted so badly to be there with her, but even after requesting travel allowance due to the special circumstances, he was still denied. Astoria refused to leave her mother, and so for the majority of her pregnancy they were apart.

It was a very difficult pregnancy. Her telesol had been like a lifeline those many months, and though Draco wasn't with her physically, and though they couldn't see each other, they were able to be together through one another's thoughts. She was very ill, and her mother's illness only acerbated her own. After six months, her mother passed away, and Astoria applied for a portkey home.

It was against her healer's wishes, considering her already fragile health and that her baby was so far along. But Astoria knew if she didn't return, then Draco would miss the birth of his firstborn child, and she couldn't let that happen. The trip really took its toll, and their son was born premature and sickly, nearly killing Astoria in the process. Her health continued to be a trial, even so many years later.

After her recovery, they both made the difficult decision to not have any more children, and also to never be apart ever again. Their necklaces were no longer necessary, and so were put in her jewelry box, soon to be replaced and covered by many others. But the thought of it always warmed her heart, thinking of how they overcame such a hardship together.

…

Ever since realizing what the trinket was, Astoria could only curse at her own stupidity! It had been 11 years since they had used those pendants, yet she was certain that was the trinket the letter had been referring to. There was no other possibility!

Astoria waved her wand experimentally, checking for any hexes or traps. _One can never be too careful,_ she thought. If the deatheaters had discovered Draco's treachery, they surely would have left traps for her should anyone return to his house. Satisfied when nothing appeared, she walked through the front door of Malfoy Manor, only to stop short. Her house was a mess, completely torn apart and ruined. She cursed the aurors, barely stopping short of cursing Potter himself for sending them.

She stepped slowly inside, her wand held aloft, fear threatening to overtake her. Chills crawled up her spine, as if warning her. She continued forward toward the large staircase, and stole up the steps and down the upstairs hallway to the large master bedroom. Everything there had been destroyed as well. The bed was torn apart, their clothes and belongings spilled out of toppled drawers. She panicked to see her jewelry had been thrown to the ground, sparkling like shattered glass.

 _Oh no, no, no!_ She rushed forward, placing her wand on the ground, using both her hands to rifle through the many pieces. "Why did I put those damn anti-theft charms on them!?" She couldn't help but mutter, knowing that any retrieval charm would be useless.

She continued to search, unaware of a shadow creeping up the steps, alerted by the sounds. Her hands swept the many necklaces, throwing away one after another. _There!_ A glint of gold, and her hand closed around the sharp point. She shoved it deep inside her cloak pocket, her body relaxing in relief.

Suddenly, a shiver ran up her spine, and she knew she wasn't alone. A creak was heard, and the gentle whoosh of a door opening behind her. She gripped her wand, and spun around. "CONFRINGO!" She yelled, and a powerful blast coursed from her wand towards the intruder, who was thrown off his feet.

"Arrrgggghhhh!" was heard, and she rushed to the doorway, wand raised and ready for a counter-attack. The man lay in the middle of the hallway, his wand feet from him.

"Bloody Hell, woman! Why'd you do that for? I wasn't going to hurt you!"

It took a moment for Astoria to recognize him through the smoke and his billowing black cloak. Then it hit her.

"Theodore?"


	29. Chapter 29

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 29: Remember Me?

 _"Bloody Hell, woman! Why'd you do that for? I wasn't going to hurt you!"_

 _It took a moment for Astoria to recognize him through the smoke and his billowing black cloak. Then it hit her._

" _Theodore?"_

Astoria held her wand steady, refusing to let her guard down.

"Why else would you be here?" Theodore looked up at her, insult written across his face.

"Tori, really? I came here to find you, to warn you! The Dark Lord has placed a bounty on your head. Every Risen Follower is out looking for you."

"Risen Follower? Changed your name, have you? Deatheaters suddenly became too melodramatic?" She scoffed before sobering quickly, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. "Wait… a bounty? If – if Voldemort wants my head that can only mean – Draco! He's been found out, hasn't he?" With that her wand lowered and her countenance fell, her legs sinking to the floor. Theodore rose to catch her, holding her as she sobbed.

"Wait, wait Tori, it's not what you think. He's alive, I swear! He'll be alright!" He waited for her to gain control again, wondering how much he should reveal concerning the state Draco was in.

"Did you even try to help him?" She finally whispered. Theodore sighed, avoiding the question. She already knew the answer, anyway. She knew him well enough by now, she needn't have bothered asking. Theodore was a coward and always would be.

"I disabled all the hexes and things set up for you, but they'll be back before long." He said. "I wanted to warn you about the bounty. I wanted to protect you."

"Well, you've delivered your message, so you can clear your conscience. I've got something to do so if you'll excuse me…" She rose and brushed past him, but was stopped short at the top of the stairs by a hand closing around her own.

"Tori, wait! I know about the necklace!" Astoria turned sharply. She tried to compose the shock that was evident in her reaction, but it was too late.

"Yes!" he said triumphantly, the truth plastered across her face. "I knew you would know about it. What has Malfoy done?" Theodore asked, impatiently.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean." She said, trying to save what she knew was already lost.

"Don't lie to me, Tori. I know you too well. Besides, if you tell me, I might be able to help Malfoy…" Theodore trailed off quietly and reached into his pocket, removing the subject of their discussion.

"How did you get that!?" Astoria reached for the necklace Theodore was now holding, only to feel it slip from her fingers.

"Tell me why it's so important!"

Astoria huffed, knowing she was defeated. "Fine. But how do I know I can trust you?"

Theodore looked at her, his face softening, his voice cajoling. "Tori, you've always known you could trust me." He moved closer until he was just a hairsbreadth away. "Remember all those years ago, when we were still in school? My seventh year, before Christmas?" His fingers caressed her own, drawing her nearer. She closed her eyes in memory – it had been a long time since she had thought about that. "Those were the days, weren't they? Just you and I?" He continued as he slowly reached his hand up to cup her cheek, moving to capture her lips in his. Astoria's breath trembled, sensing his closeness before feeling the soft kiss.

Then her eyes snapped open, and her hands pressed firmly against his chest, pushing him gently away.

"Theo, please. It was years ago, we've changed. We've hardly even seen each other since you returned from Christmas break that year. You were different." Astoria's eyes suddenly misted over, more tears threatening to fall. "The mark changed you. Besides, I moved on a long time ago. I love Draco, Theodore. I just want to save him. I'm sorry if that hurts you to hear, but –"

"No, no! I – Look, I know you love him. You and I, it never would have lasted, anyway. What you said to me that night - that I was a coward, that I was choosing the wrong side to save myself –"

"I shouldn't have said those things –"

"Yes, you should have. You were right." Theodore took a deep breath. "And you still are. I could never have been enough for you – your fire, your passion. I could never openly oppose the Dark Lord, but I can at least help you with this. Tell me, Astoria – how does it work?" He held up the necklace again, pleading with her.

Astoria hesitated only a moment longer, then sighed, finally surrendering. "It's called a telesol. It connects Draco and I when we are both wearing them. We can talk to each other – read each other's thoughts, rather. We used it many years ago when I went to Spain, and he thought – he thought it would be a way to lead the aurors to Voldemort."

Theodore's eyes widened, and he looked at the necklace with something akin to reverence. "How did you get it?" he asked, when suddenly shouting was heard coming from outside. They shrunk against the hallway, trying to find a place to hide as the front door banged open and many footsteps were heard entering the house. Astoria made to leave when Theodore grabbed her hand again.

"Wait! That wasn't all I had to tell you, Astoria. I have a message."

"A message? What do you mean, message? From who?" she hissed, trying to peer down the stairs for the intruders.

"From Henrick Ollivander." Astoria paused, dumbfounded as she turned wide eyes back to Theodore's.

"Henrick? The unspeakable?" She asked. Theodore nodded.

"He is the Dark Lord's right hand man – the reason You-Know-Who is back! He took me aside and told me he knew of my feelings for you. I don't know how, but someone must've told him about our relationship in school. He said he would allow me to protect you, and he wouldn't tell the Dark Lord, as long as I swore to give you his message."

"Well what is it, then?"

Theodore swallowed as the sounds grew closer, the intruders nearing the foot of the stairs. "He says that they're real; the three hallows, whatever he means by that. He wants you to know that Potter has them, and if you bring them to him, he will free Draco."

Astoria couldn't believe what she was hearing. "But how will I know how to find him?" She asked hesitantly.

"He says he will contact you, and that until he does, what he did for you 11 years ago must stay a 'little secret' or Draco will pay the price." Astoria was stuck in place, fear and guilt warring with each other, causing her limbs to freeze and her mind to go blank.

"Astoria, they're getting closer. We've got to move!" He whispered urgently, pulling her back into her bedroom, and shutting the door quietly.

Astoria shook her head, clarity finally returning. She looked at Theodore, panic in her eyes. "It doesn't matter now. Quick, Theo, just tell me where he is! Tell me where Draco and Voldemort are, and I can bring Harry Potter and his aurors. He could save Draco! Please!" She pleaded as the group of men talked angrily, having realized their hexes and curses had been disabled.

"I – I can't. I could never do that, Astoria. What if he found out?"

"You've already risked everything just talking to me at all!"

"That's different! I – I love you, Astoria. I always have, I would never turn you over to the Dark Lord. But turn against him completely? Betray him? That's different, Tori."

Astoria growled exasperated, glaring coldly at him. "You're right. I should never be sorry for what I said to you that night, all those years ago. You're just as much a coward now as you were then – worse so, because you don't have the excuse of being a child anymore. Pick a side, Theo! The rest of us already have." She hissed.

The talking got louder, and the footsteps closer. They were climbing the stairs, and they would be entering the room any moment. Theodore looked at her, hurt evident on his face. But his mouth remained resolutely shut. With a cry of outrage, she shoved him away from her, blasting the window open. With a last glance of disgust, she dropped from the second story, disapparating in midair.

The sounds alerted the intruders, and Theodore rushed to follow suit, and with a swish of his cloak he too disappeared.

Furor Grey stormed the room, wand raised, growling as he saw the flash of color and heard the _pop!_ indicative of disapparition.

"Damn."

….

It was long after dinner by the time Astoria returned to Muriel's. As soon she stepped through the door, she was almost knocked backward by her son's hug. "Mother! I was so worried about you, I thought something had happened to you like what happened to dad!" he cried, refusing to be ashamed at his tears in front of his friends.

Heartbroken, she hugged her son fiercely, more tears threatening to fall.

"Astoria, dear, thank goodness everything is alright!" Molly crowed, embracing Astoria also and guiding her to the dining area. "Come and have something to eat, you must be starving!" Nearly the entire Weasley family was sitting there, except for Harry who still hadn't returned from work.

Tension reigned as Molly served her up a plate. No one could decide who would speak first. Finally, Ginny broke the silence, "So, did you get what you were looking for? Did you find the trinket that Draco was talking about?"

Astoria was frozen in place. For the first time, she finally understood for herself why Draco, and so many others of Voldemort's followers, had chosen to obey the Dark Lord. _When your family is at stake, you will do anything – even go against everything you believe in._

They waited with bated breath and Astoria swallowed heavily, and looked Ginny in the eyes. She squared her shoulders.

"No, I'm afraid not. I've no idea what Draco meant."


	30. Chapter 30

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

 **This chapter contains writings directly from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, all of which are in italics, and were written by JK Rowling.**

Chapter 30: Prisoner

" _What is this?"  
"We're here to see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" rasped Greyback.  
"Who are you?"  
"You know me!" There was resentment in the werewolf's voice. "Fenrir Greyback! We've caught Harry Potter!"_

" _Follow me," said Narcissa, leading the way across the hall. "My son, Draco, is home for his Easter holidays. If that is Harry Potter, he will know."_

" _Well, Draco?" said Lucius Malfoy. He sounded avid. "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"_

Draco was 17 again, back in Malfoy Manor. His father was alive, and his mother looked so young and regal, standing in front of him. He turned to see as Fenrir Greyback and his band of snatchers dragged a group of struggling prisoners into the room. _Oh no, not again!_ He couldn't help but think.

His father turned to him a second time.

" _Well, Draco? Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"_

He had never been more conflicted in his life than at that moment. It was obvious it was Potter, despite the stinging jinx. His glasses had been a dead giveaway. Granger and Weasley looked the same as always, though a bit worse for wear. They'd obviously been living it rough. But, if he said yes, then the Dark Lord would be called immediately, and he would kill Potter and his friends. Not that Draco had developed a liking for Potter, per se, but he didn't want more blood on his hands – not even the blood of his school enemies. And what if Potter truly was what everyone said he was? The Chosen One, who could bring down the Dark Lord and destroy him once and for all?

Was that what Draco wanted? His whole life he would have said no, but now? Now he wasn't sure what he wanted anymore. He had come to realize last year that maybe being a follower of the Dark Lord wasn't what he wanted at all...

" _I can't – I can't be sure," said Draco. He was keeping his distance from Greyback, and seemed as scared of looking at Harry as Harry was of looking at him.  
"But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!" _His father commanded.

Draco couldn't remember a time when his father had been more excited. _  
_

" _Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv –"  
"Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope Mr. Malfoy?" said Greyback menacingly._

His father had begun to peer at Potter by now.

" _There's something there," he whispered. "it could be the scar, stretched tight. . . . Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?"  
Draco's expression was full of reluctance, even fear.  
"I don't know," he said, and he walked away toward the fireplace where his mother stood watching_.

" _What about the Mudblood, then?" growled Greyback… The light fell on Hermione instead.  
"Wait," said Narcissa sharply. "Yes – yes, she was in Madam Malkin's with Potter! I saw her picture in the Prophet! Look, Draco, isn't it the Granger girl?"  
"I . . . maybe . . . yeah."  
"But then, that's the Weasley boy!" shouted Lucius, striding around the bound prisoners to face Ron. "It's them, Potter's friends – Draco, look at him, isn't it Arthur Weasley's son, what's his name – ?"  
"Yeah," said Draco again, his back to the prisoners. "It could be."_

" _Yes, yes, it's Granger!" cried Lucius, "And beside her, we think, Potter! Potter and his friends, caught at last!"_

Draco's inner battler continued. Choosing his father and the Dark Lord, or choosing to hope Harry Potter could actually win this war, and free them all from the Dark Lord's tyranny. Did he truly want Potter to win? It would mean death or life in prison for them all - but wasn't that what he was already facing every day? Wasn't this house no better than a prison?

It was just then that his Aunt Bellatrix had entered, making the whole situation that much worse.

" _Potter?" shrieked Bellatrix, and she backed away, the better to take in Harry.  
"Are you sure? Well then, the Dark Lord must be informed at once!" She dragged back her left sleeve:  
"I was about to call him!" said Lucius, and his hand actually closed upon Bellatrix's wrist, preventing her from touching the Mark. "I shall summon him, Bella. Potter has been brought to my house, and it is therefore upon my authority –"  
"Your authority!" she sneered, attempting to wrench her hand from his grasp. "You lost your authority when you lost your wand, Lucius! How dare you! Take your hands off me!"  
"This has nothing to do with you, you did not capture the boy –"  
"Begging your pardon, Mr. Malfoy," interjected Greyback, "but it's us that caught Potter, and it's us that'll be claiming the gold –"  
"Gold!" laughed Bellatrix, still attempting to throw off her brother-in-law, her free hand groping in her pocket for her wand. "Take your gold, filthy scavenger, what do I want with gold? I seek only the honor of his – of –"_

Suddenly, Bellatrix spotted the sword. Why the sword mattered, Draco would never know. But Suddenly she was a whirlwind of curses and fury, ending with all the snatchers on the ground, stunned or dead, and only Greyback left conscious. He had been forced into a kneeling position, his arms outstretched, with Bellatrix bearing down on him.

 _"Where did you get this sword?" she whispered to Greyback as she pulled his wand out of his unresisting grip.  
"How dare you?" he snarled, his mouth the only thing that could move as he was forced to gaze up at her. He bared his pointed teeth. "Release me, woman!"_

" _Where did you find this sword?" she repeated, brandishing it in his face, "Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!"  
"It was in their tent," rasped Greyback. "Release me, I say!"  
She waved her wand, and the werewolf sprang to his feet, but appeared too wary to approach her. He prowled behind an armchair, his filthy curved nails clutching its back._

" _Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback."  
"Wait," said Bellatrix sharply. "All except. . . . except for the Mudblood." Greyback gave a grunt of pleasure.  
"No!" shouted Ron. "You can have me, keep me!" Bellatrix hit him across the face: the blow echoed around the room.  
"If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next," she said. "Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book. Take them downstairs, Greyback, and make sure they are secure, but do nothing more to them – yet."  
She threw Greyback's wand back to him, then took a short silver knife from under her robes. She cut Hermione free from the other prisoners, then dragged her by the hair into the middle of the room, while Greyback forced the rest of them to shuffle across to another door, into a dark passageway, his wand held out in front of him, projecting an invisible and irresistible force.  
"Reckon she'll let me have a bit of the girl when she's finished with her?"Greyback crooned as he forced them along the corridor. "I'd say I'll get a bite or two, wouldn't you, ginger?"_

Draco listened, stricken, to the bloodcurdling screams as Granger was tortured by Aunt Bellatrix. He could only watch, fighting to keep his face neutral and impassive as tears streamed down her face. The cries of Weasley were heard from downstairs, his bellows loud enough to breach the silencing charms placed on the cellar.

" _I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?"  
"We found it – we found it – PLEASE!" Hermione screamed again. _

The torture continued on and on. Granger met his eyes, pleading. What would have given her the impression that he would help her, he didn't know, but he was surprised by his desire to do just that. He couldn't bear it, and he cupped his hands over his ears, hunching in on himself, guilt ripping at him as her face became more and more hopeless, like she knew no one, nothing, could save her now.

" _How did you get into my vault?" Bellatrix screamed. "Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"  
"We only met him tonight!" Hermione sobbed. "We've never been inside your vault. . . . It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!"  
"A copy?" screeched Bellatrix. "Oh, a likely story!"_

" _But we can find out easily!" came Lucius's voice. "Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"_

Draco was startled by his name, raising his head to once again be faced by the scene in front of him. Hermione lay on the floor, listless. "Go, Draco! Retreive the goblin!" his father ordered, and draco couldn't help but shake his head, pleadingly. His father growled, "Do it Draco, or so help me." Draco shuddered at the threat, and proceeded to the cellar door.

 _The next moment, Draco's shaking voice spoke from behind the door to the cellar.  
"Stand back. Line up against the back wall. Don't try anything, or I'll - I'll kill you!"_

 _The door flew open; Malfoy marched inside, wand held out in front of him, pale and determined. He seized the little goblin by the arm and backed out again, dragging Griphook with him._

As Draco returned, Hermione was nearly unconscious. _Oh, just pass out already! Let the pain end!_ He thought to himself on her behalf. He proceeded to do nothing as the goblin was tortured. When Aunt Bellatrix had gotten the information she wanted out of him, she had turned to Greyback.

" _And I think," said Bellatrix's voice, "we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her."  
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"  
Ron had burst into the drawing room; Bellatrix looked around, shocked; she turned her wand to face Ron instead –  
"Expelliarmus!" he roared, pointing Wormtail's wand at Bellatrix, and hers flew into the air and was caught by Harry, who had sprinted after Ron. Lucius, Narcissa, Draco and Greyback wheeled about; Harry yelled, "Stupefy!" and Lucius Malfoy collapsed onto the hearth. Jets of light flew from Draco's, Narcissa's, and Greyback's wands; Harry threw himself to the floor, rolling behind a sofa to avoid them.  
_

 _"STOP OR SHE DIES!"_

 _Panting, Harry peered around the edge of the sofa. Bellatrix was supporting Hermione, who seemed to be unconscious, and was holding her short silver knife to Hermione's throat.  
"Drop your wands," she whispered. "Drop them, or we'll see exactly how filthy her blood is!"  
Ron stood rigid, clutching Wormtail's wand. Harry straightened up, still holding Bellatrix's.  
"I said, drop them!" she screeched, pressing the blade into Hermione's throat… beads of blood appeared there. _

" _All right!" he shouted, and he dropped Bellatrix's wand onto the floor at his feet, Ron did the same with Wormtail's. Both raised their hands to shoulder height.  
"Good!" she leered. "Draco, pick them up! The Dark Lord is coming, Harry Potter! Your death approaches!"_

" _Now," said Bellatrix softly, as Draco hurried back to her with the wands. "Cissy, I think we ought to tie these little heroes up again, while Greyback takes care of Miss Mudblood. I am sure the Dark Lord will not begrudge you the girl, Greyback, after what you have done tonight."_

Suddenly, all hell broke loose, and the chandelier was dropping from the ceiling.

 _Glittering shards of crystal flew in all directions; Draco doubled over, his hands covering his bloody face.  
As Ron ran to pull Hermione out of the wreckage, Harry took the chance: He leapt over an armchair and wrestled the three wands from Draco's grip, pointed all of them at Greyback, and yelled, "Stupefy!" The werewolf was lifted off his feet by the triple spell, flew up to the ceiling and then smashed to the ground._

In only a matter of seconds, the disappearance of Potter was replaced with the appearance of the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord turned on all those left in the room, his red eyes turning to slits, shaking with rage as Draco's father and aunt explained what had happened: that Harry Potter had escaped their grasp once again.

Pain. Pain was all he knew for a long time. Pain, and fear, guilt, and anger.

Draco woke with a start, him mind reeling from the dream. Only it wasn't a dream, not really. It was more like a flashback, nightmares of the horrors he had experienced in his youth - horrors he had tried to bury but now once again in Voldemort's clutches, were the only things he could think about.

The suffering that had followed that night had reminded him that Potter was the enemy, and if he wanted to live, he had to pick a side; the winning side. He had tried his best to capture Potter during the final battle in the room of requirement – his only thought then was vengeance. Until Potter saved his life, that is, _pulling him from the flames just in time._

Draco shivered again, the cold seeping through the walls of the prison making his breath come out in puffs of white. He didn't know how long it had been since Voldemort had publicly revealed his betrayal and tortured him to unconsciousness. But it seemed like it had been quite a while. His muscles kept jumping and tensing, making his body tremble and flinch.

Since then, he had been left alone in his cell on the second floor of the fortress. There was no window, and he had only a stone bench and thin blanket on which to lie.

Since awakening, he had spent the remaining hours thinking on all his foolish actions – his childhood, his stupid pride and arrogance, and all the steps that had lead him to this point. The only good thing he could think of was Astoria and Scorpius. They were the only choice he did not regret.

Footsteps aroused him from his thoughts, and he felt the rush of magic that unlocked the door. He staggered to his feet, wincing in pain. Furor Grey strode inside, along with his brother-in-law, Andrew Greengrass.

"Oh, look how far you have fallen, _brother._ I always knew you were a fool and a traitor. It's about time you got what you deserved." Andrew clucked disapprovingly, and Draco growled, wishing he could have his wand to punish such impudence. Grey, on the other hand, only smiled as he circled around Draco, like a wolf circling its prey.

"So you've come to gloat, is that it?" Draco hissed, trying to keep his cool demeanor despite everything.

"Oh, no, no, no. Not just gloat, no. We have much more we would like to discuss with you." Andrew answered. "You see, the Dark Lord wanted to come and take care of you himself, but I begged for the chance. He wants you to know that the Risen Followers are tracking down your mother as we speak, as well as your wife and child."

Draco's jaw hardened and his face turned to one of pure hatred as he glared at his brother-in-law. "You would betray your own sister?" He asked, disgusted.

"She's not my sister; not really. _This_ is my family! She is nothing but a blood-traitor; a disease among our ranks. And you are no better for marrying her." He responded with malice. Draco made to lunge at Andrew, only to be caught midair by a flick of Grey's wand, sending him flying backwards and hitting the stone wall, hard. Draco fell to the floor in a heap, groaning in pain.

"Tut, tut, Draco. Don't you realize it by now? _You are not in charge here."_ Grey smirked. _"_ All those years ago with the Dark Lord's reign, you and your family ruled even the death eaters. You were considered his favorites! But you know what? You may have pleased him then, but the rest of us all saw you for who you were. Frauds, and imposters."

"How would you know? I was in the inner circle, and I don't exactly remember you." Draco said angrily, fighting to keep himself under control, his face blanking and returning to its cool demeanor.

"You're right, I wasn't in the inner circle." Grey continued, "No, but I was a follower, and my father was prized among the Dark Lords ranks. He could have had it all, and I could have had everything along with him. But no. Thanks to you and your bloody family, my father was ruined! _He died because of it!_ "

"I don't even know who you're talking about!"

"FENRIR GREYBACK!" Grey bellowed, cutting Draco off. Silence followed the statement, and even Andrew seemed tense.

Draco rose his chin defiantly. "So which kid are you? I heard he had dozens of little kids he attacked, and claimed as his own. What makes you so special?" Grey pointed his wand at Draco, fury etched in his every feature.

"I wasn't just some little boy he turned into a werewolf and called his own. I wasn't like those fools like Lupin who didn't appreciate the gift he had given them! No, I am truly his flesh and blood. I don't turn at the full moon, but I have many of his tendencies and traits. He was my father, and the day the Dark Lord fell was the day my father was killed."

Draco squared his jaw, disgust prevalent on his face as he rose his gaze to meet that of his tormentor. "Dear Lord, who was your mother?"

Grey bellowed, thrusting his wand in a hashed curse. Draco was thrown across the room, slamming into the opposite wall. He heard before he felt the pop! as his shoulder was forced from its socket, dislocated. His eyes rolled, and he fought to keep consciousness. Grey crossed the room, his hands clamping on Draco's throat, cutting off his breath. He struggled, but the effects from his previous torture made his muscles weak and disobedient. It was Andrew who finally pulled Grey away, leaving Draco coughing and heaving on the ground. He glared at them, and hissed. "In case you didn't know, my father was imprisoned after that day, and he died too." He panted, still trying to regain his breath. "We've all lost something from the war. The only difference is we blame someone else for it."

Draco was once again shoved against the wall by the force of the curse, and what felt like a thousand knives pierced his skin, his teeth rattled and clacked as he screamed in agony. Then it was lifted, and he was staring into the black eyes of Grey again. Andrew was chuckling somewhere above him.

"What do you want from me?" He gasped.

"Absolutely nothing, Malfoy. We have everything we've ever wanted right here, with the Dark Lord. Now, it's just time for some fun." Andrew said maliciously, raising his own wand. Pain and regret was all he knew for what felt like hours. He quickly lost track of time. Mercifully, the spells were finally lifted by the sound of banging at the door.

"What!?" Grey growled.

"The Dark Lord requires your presence." Draco recognized the voice, and couldn't help but whimper as painful tremors continued up and down his spine. Grey and Andrew stalked out the door, but as soon as they left someone else entered, shutting the door behind him and whispering a spell for silence and privacy.

The feet were soft and slow, as if approaching with caution.

Draco's eyes refused to open as pain continued to radiate through his body. He sensed the person crouch beside him. "Malfoy? Are you alright?" Draco could only groan. He tried to rise, but his sore muscles betrayed him. The man gripped both shoulders to help, and Draco cried out, his dislocated shoulder throbbing. The hands were removed, and instead he felt the man's magic as he was lifted, and laid heavily on his bed.

"I'm sorry, I don't know any healing spells. I'm no good at things like that." he heard above him, and Draco finally opened his eyes, and stared up into the face of his new visitor.

"What are you doing here, Nott? I didn't think we had anything to discuss." He asked, clenching his jaw at the trembling of his voice, giving away how much pain he was actually in.

"I'm not here to hurt you, Malfoy. I'm here to help you." Theodore said, glancing anxiously at the door.

Draco chuckled darkly, "Help me? How? I'm beyond help, Nott. I knew it the moment the dark mark returned. There was never anything I could do to escape my fate."

"That's not true! I saw you right before Pansy and the others entered. You had a plan, I know it. I can help you!" Theodore said, closing in on Draco until he was right next to him.

Draco eyed him. "We were never friends, Nott. Why should you want to help me, and why should I trust you?"

"Because, I hate the Dark Lord, too. And also because… because maybe there are some things I _am_ willing to do. It doesn't absolve me of previous failures, but perhaps I can do one thing right for a change."

Draco still looked doubtful, slightly annoyed by the ambiguity of the statement. Choosing to ignore it however, he gestured for Theodore to continue. He watched as Theodore reached into his cloak pocket and pulled out the necklace.

"I know there's more to this trinket than just a portkey." Draco paled, not able to hide his shock.

"You had it? How did you get it?"

"When we got here, it was on the ground. I was going to leave it there, I mean, it was just supposed to be a random portkey. But then you were looking for it almost the moment we arrived. It was obviously more important than you had let on." Theodore explained. "I know the trinket's purpose."

Draco scoffed. "How could you?"

"That's not important. But I am on your side, Draco."

Just then, footsteps were heard coming towards the door. Theodore shoved the trinket inside Draco's breast pocket just in time as the door opened, and the new guard shift was announced, forcing Theodore to leave his side. Draco could only stare after him in shock.

If he had an ally, maybe this could work out after all. _But why did it have to be Nott of all people? He's hopeless!_ Draco thought darkly. He fingered the necklace, wary of the possibility of one of the guards looking in and seeing him with it. He carefully placed the necklace around his head, with great difficulty considering he only had one good arm.

He took a deep breath, hope simmering for the first time.

" _Astoria? Are you there?"_


	31. Chapter 31

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

 **Also, I want to apologize for my random, sometimes lack of, posting new chapters. I have the whole story written out and explained, with about 5 chapter almost ready to post, but I am very meticulous about my editing. Takes me forever:( Plus, I've had school, and I moved last weekend, and then I got sick and my brain hasn't been properly functioning the last few days. BUT - here's to a new chapter!**

 **This is an exceptionally long chapter as well. I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, please comment and let me know how you liked it! It's really motivating to hear from you! Now on to the story...**

Chapter 31: Order Meeting

Victoire silently fed the flesh colored strings further under the door, shushing her cousins as she did so.

"Vic, what's going on!? You have to share!" Albus pouted, acting much younger than his 10 years.

"Just hold on, jeez!" Victoire said irritably, listening closely until she had the Extendable Ear in _just the right position…_ "Alright, I've got it!" She whispered triumphantly, then hurried back to where her cousins waited for her on the landing. She then proceeded to pull apart the flesh colored strings on her end, handing one to each Albus, James, Fred, Rose, and Scorpius.

Now it was Lily's turn to pout. "Why don't I get one?" she whined.

"Shut up, Lily! There's not enough, and you're too young anyway! Go play with Hugo or something." James hissed, closing his eyes in concentration to hear what was going on in the Order meeting. He pushed the string deeper into his ear, trying to make out what was being said. He was upset they had had to wait so long until James and Lily Sr., (his _grandparents?_ He still wasn't sure what to call them, yet…) had walked in the room, giving them an opening to eavesdrop.

He was just thankful his Uncle George had given Fred and him these latest editions of Extendable Ears, so even imperturbable charms couldn't keep them out. Only the _muffliato_ charm seemed to do the trick, and even then, if you listened _really closely_ …

"That's what they said about Moody, and he fooled Dumbledore, even." James heard someone say. It sounded almost tinny, like someone was trying to speak through a can.

"Does he mean Albus Dumbledore?"

"Obviously, Al, there isn't any other Dumbledore worth talking about." Victoire answered crossly, again shoving Lily to the side as she made another a grab for the string. "Stop it, Lily! I swear, wand or no wand, I'll hex you to high country if you don't knock it off!" she hissed.

"Fine! I'll just tell dad what you were up to!"

"You try it, you eat it. And it'll be slugs this time, just like Uncle Ron." James said menacingly, pulling out his wand. Lily's lower lip bulged, but she nodded her head in defeat. Scorpius sighed and handed her the string, shrugging his shoulders in a bewildered manner at Albus' and James' incredulous expressions. Lily smiled widely, and instead of taking it from him, she held it between them both, and they put their heads close together to hear what was being said.

"Now, here is what we do know… Draco Malfoy has risked his life in order to help us bring down Voldemort. Though we don't know for sure, I find it unlikely he will last long, if he hasn't already been discovered. In which case, we can only hope that Voldemort will let him live long enough to contact us." Harry could be heard saying through the line.

"If he does let him live, it'll be Hell to pay." Neville said darkly.

The small group looked at Scorpius, concerned. He resolutely ignored them, and instead concentrated harder on the voices.

"How do we know he's not already dead?" An unfamiliar voice asked.

"Don't you say it! He's not! Who – What right do you have to say such things?" Astoria said angrily.

"Ernie MacMillan, and I beg your pardon, but you haven't found whatever the trinket it, so you wouldn't know, would you?"

Scorpius reared his head back, his face paling significantly. Lily continued to hold the extendable ear, and she met his eyes. He didn't want to hear anymore, but like a moth drawn to a flame, he moved forward to listen once again.

"…this has all been an act to get a spy into _your_ home. Do you really think he's changed so much from school? Has the mark suddenly become meaningless in all your eyes? He was a bloody _death eater_ who helped the Carrows, who tried to kill Harry, who boasted and brayed about the Dark Lord like he was a God!" said the unfamiliar man, Ernie, his voice filled with suspicion.

"He has changed! I wouldn't have married him if he was still a supporter of that evil monster!" his mother was heard again, fervently defending her husband.

"Well, sure, says you! But you're a Slytherin, aren't you!? Since when do Slytherins have such differing ideals!?" Scorpius was again distracted, his own fear coming to the forefront as he looked at the Potters and Weasleys surrounding him, all still staring at him with wide eyes as they listened intently. _Are slytherins really so bad? Will they hate me because my family is slytherin – because my father was a death eater?_

"HARRY POTTER IS THE ONLY MAN WHO CAN DEFEAT YOU-KNOW-WHO, AND HE'S GONE AND LET A SNAKE IN HIS OWN HOUSE! I WON'T STAND FOR IT!" the extendable ears were not needed for that last statement, so loud was it the door seemed to shake.

"ENOUGH!" Harry shouted, demanding silence. Scorpius never found out what happened next.

….

"Alright, alright! Everybody untwist your knickers and take a seat!" George bellowed, quieting the room with some scattered chuckles.

"Thank you." Harry said. He looked out at all the gathered, many of whom he hadn't seen now for some years. He was pleased at the turnout.

"Thank you all for coming. I know this is a first for some of you, and for others this will be the third time you've been inducted into the Order of the Phoenix. Thank you for all you've done. I know the roles you've all played in the past, and I want you to know that I appreciate your support and your bravery." He hesitated, swallowing thickly. "It will be called upon in the coming times."

He was met by mostly gracious nods, and in the case of Dedalus Diggle, a hearty "Anything for you, Mr. Potter!" Harry reddened, annoyed to realize that even now, after 20 years since being leader of Dumbledore's Army, and now being the Head of the Auror Department for a while, he still hated public speaking.

He was thankful when Hermione cleared her throat. "We ought to take down a list, Harry. So we have it for our records." Harry nodded.

"Uh, right, yes. Attendance. Also, we are a bit lacking in the head of the Order right now. Dumbledore was the first, then Moody, and Kingsley was the leader since Moody's death…"

"Harry, I more than willingly extend the position to you. As you already know, I pledge my allegiance to you." Murmurs of agreement were heard around the room, some murmurs more enthusiastic than others in the case of George, Dedulas, and the members of Dumbledore's Army, with a loud "hear hear!" interspersed. Harry smiled gratefully at Kingsley, and chuckled as Hermione wrote his name in large letters at the top of her parchment, stating him as the head. She was always so precise.

"Alright, well I've some things to explain…"

"Don't you think we should introduce ourselves, Harry. I think it would be a good idea, considering we will be working together, and depending on each other. Oh, and also say if we've been members of the order before." Hermione quipped, smiling.

Harry released a sigh. "Yes, right, thank you Hermione. I suppose just because I know who you all are doesn't mean you know each other. Alright, we'll start here and go around the room." He finished, and gestured to his right.

The room all noticed the two empty seats directly beside him. This was left unmentioned, and instead it began with a woman who few recognized.

"I am Astoria Malfoy."

" _WHAT!?"_ was suddenly heard from many, including Neville, Lee, and Oliver. "What in the name of Merlin –"

"SHUT IT!" Ginny boomed, standing up for emphasis. "Bloody Hell, are you a bunch of first years? Have some respect!" She demanded before retaking her seat.

"Thank you, Ginny." Harry responded before turning the group again. "She has proven to be loyal, and there is a greater reason for her presence, which I will explain later. Please continue, Astoria."

Astoria nodded, her face flushed with embarrassment. "Yes, well, I am Astoria Malfoy. I was not in Dumbledore's Army, but neither did I agree with Voldemort's ideals. I only want to help." This statement was met with stony silence and suspicion, which was broken by a voice coming from an especially thick pocket of red heads, sitting at Astoria's right.

"Hullo, I'm Arthur Weasley. I was a member of the second Order. This is my wife Molly, who was also a member. Our home served as Order Headquarters after Dumbledore died." And so it continued.

"Bill Weasley, I was in the second Order."

"Fleur Weasley. I became a membor zoon after ze death of Albus Dumbledore."

"Percy Weasley, and my wife Audrey." Percy kept his head down, refusing to look anyone in the eye.

"Charlie Weasley. I was mostly stuck in Romania during the last war, but I did some out of country work for the order, best I could."

"Teddy Lupin. I just turned seventeen, so Harry can't keep me out of it." Harry rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

"Lee Jordan, at your service good lords and ladies. I was in Dumbledore's Army, and a member during the last war. Long live Potterwatch!" He grinned, and many in the room laughed, remembering that radio show. It brought an immeasurable amount of hope back then.

"Katie Jordan. I was in Dumbledore's Army."

"George Weasley. I used to date Katie, back in school. Then she dumped me, so I found Angelina instead." He gestured at the woman sitting next to him who was heavily pregnant. She just rolled her eyes, grinning. "I, too, was in Dumbledore's army, and the Order, and I lost my ear to that bugger Snape…"

"Yes, but I like it. I think it makes you look rugged." Angelina added, cutting him off. "I'm Angelina. I dated Lee for a while, but then I dumped him and settled for George." She laughed, winking at her husband mischievously.

"Dedalus Diggle. I was a member during the first and second order, and let me just say it is a pleasure to be working with you all again. You can count on me, I promise you. These old bones have quite a bit of spirit left in them." The group seemed a bit doubtful at that last statement, but luckily no one commented.

"Hestia Jones. I was in the second order, tasked along with Dedalus at protecting Harry's relations."

"Shouldn't've bothered…" Ron grunted, earning an elbow from Hermione and a glare from Harry, though lacking the heat it would normally carry.

"Yes, well… anyway, this is my daughter Eleanor. She is one of Harry's aurors, aren't you dear?" Eleanor nodded, gesturing for the line to continue.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt. Second order member."

"Minerva McGonagall. I fought against bloody Grindewald, and it's a miracle _my_ old bones are still working. But like Dedalus said, I was in the first and second order, and there's still some fire left." Unlike with Dedulas, no one doubted that comment in the least as she gave one of her rare winks.

"Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper o' Keys an' grounds at Hogwarts. Also, I teach Care o' Magical Creatures at Hogwarts. Also, I was in th' first an' secon' order, and I still remember when I found little baby Harry in tha' nursery, all alone. And then in tha' forest. Why I –" with that, tears appeared at his eyes and he pulled a tablecloth-sized handkerchief out of his coat pocket, blowing his nose noisily.

"Yes, thank you Hagrid." Harry cut him off kindly, smiling at his old friend. Hagrid's eyes crinkled merrily, wiping his nose.

"I am Andromeda Tonks. My daughter and her husband fought and died in the last war, giving their lives to protect others. As did my husband. Teddy is my grandson." Sad looks spread around the room as the next order member continued.

"I am Pamona Sprout. I was a member in the last war." Pamona nudged the woman beside her.

"Oh, my turn? Of course, I am Sibyll Trelawney. I am a seer, and I fear that –"

"YES, YES, MOVE ON." McGonagall suddenly barked, rolling her eyes. Trelawney only huffed, as if this was a regular occurrence.

"Why is she here again?" Hermione whispered in Harry's ear.

"She was a member last time, and also… she overheard Neville talking to Minerva." He grimaced, and turned back to the group.

"Nevile Longbottom. I was in Dumbledore's Army."

"You led Dumbledore's army you mean." Ginny said, grinning. Neville only blushed, receiving numerous backslaps.

"Hannah Longbottom. I was also in Dumbledore's Army."

"Oliver Wood. I was in the second order soon after Dumbledore's death. This is my wife Annie."

"Dean Thomas. I was in Dumbledore's Army during my fifth year. I was kind of on the run my whole seventh. Caught up with this lot during the whole Malfoy Manor nightmare, and joined the order from there. Or what was left of it, I guess…"

"Seamus Finnigan. Dumbledore's Army."

"Dennis Creevey. Dumbledore's Army."

Parvati Patil. Dumbledore's army. My sister couldn't make it, I'm afraid. She's gone back to India with Ramish."

"Ernie MacMillan, and my wife Susan, at your service. We were both members of the D.A."

"Ron Weasley. I suppose I never technically joined the Order since my mum wouldn't let me until I graduated. Which never happened. But, ah well. At least I was in the D.A." Ron grinned, and the room chuckled.

"I am Hermione Granger-Weasley. I was in the order right before we left, for… well, right before what would have been our seventh year." She smiled bashfully.

"Ginny Weasley. I also never technically became a member of the order thanks to mum, but I fought for Dumbledore's Army and I lived at Order headquarters the _entire war_." It was obvious this was still a sore spot as she glanced at her mother, who met her gaze without any shame whatsoever.

"Right, thank you everyone. Like I was saying, there's some explaining to do. Unfortunately, as anyone who has tried to work with me in the past will know, I've got a lot of secrets, and I can't tell you everything, as much as I wish I could. There are some things regarding Voldemort, and the means by which I was able to defeat him the last time, that just can't be said. The security risk is too high, and believe me when I tell you, I'm doing it for your own good.

You just have to trust me." Harry said, looking at the group self-consciously, half expecting outbursts like George's the last time. But all he got were gestures of understanding and loyalty. His heart swelled in gratitude at the confidence and belief they all had in him.

"Well, first off, Voldemort is back. I was there, and I saw it happen." The group seemed to be hit with a sense of deja vu. "Many of you may be wondering if perhaps he never disappeared to begin with. There already are doubts and rumors spreading about how I lied about killing him, but as many of you can testify, it's not true. He did die that morning." Again, he was met with confidence and agreement.

"That's why his resurrection is so incredible. Three precious and rare magical objects were used in his defeat at Hogwarts, and one of those objects, along with sand from a broken time-turner, and the Veil in the Death Chamber at the Department of Mysteries, allowed him to be resurrected."

Hermione suddenly gasped on Harry's left, breaking his concentration. She shook her head frantically, unwilling to explain, so with a look of confused exasperation, Harry ignored her and continued on.

"This was done by a man named Henrick Ollivander. He has gained an inordinate amount of support, and they call themselves the Risen Followers.

Because of his use of these certain objects, the identities of which must remain unknown save for the few, there was an unforeseen side-effect. One they have yet to discover. Not only was Voldemort resurrected, but…" Harry took a deep breath. "James and Lily Potter were as well." This statement was met with gasps, and outcries of disbelief and confusion. Outbursts were heard as to how such a thing were possible, but all murmuring halted when the two walked into the room.

James and Lily Potter entered, nervously holding each other's hands. Harry pulled out the two empty seats beside him. "Please, introduce yourselves." He said quietly, knowing that everyone was listening intently.

"I am James Potter. I am Harry's father, and I couldn't be more proud of him. I was killed on October 31st, 1981, by that prick, Voldemort." He growled. "Two days ago, I awoke in my living room in Godric's Hallow, in the very same place I had died, though I didn't know it at the time. Neither of us did." James looked at his wife expectantly, his voice suddenly thick.

"I am Lily Potter. Harry is my son." At that, she grasped Harry's hand tightly, grateful when he didn't flinch away. He only squeezed hers in return, boosting her confidence. "I died in the nursery, right next to my baby's crib. It was quite a shock to wake up, and to go to Hogwarts looking for Professor Dumbledore, only to find it had been over 30 years…" At this, she too was forced to stop, tears glistening on her cheeks.

No one noticed as extendable ears were fed under the door, so captivated by the newcomers' entrance a unicorn could have waltzed in and none would be the wiser. Their attention was soon drawn as a new voice spoke up.

"I don't mean to shower negativity here, but how do we know it's really them?" Lee Jordan asked. More murmuring met this statement. McGonagall cleared her throat.

"I gave them veriteserum when they arrived at Hogwarts. Besides, anyone who knew them in the first war would know it was them."

"Aye, it's them a'right." Hagrid croaked, wiping his face the second time that night with his polkadot handkerchief.

"That's what they said about Moody, and he fooled Dumbledore, even." Dean whispered.

"Believe me when I tell you, I did not take the news easily – I had more than my share of doubts. But they have proven themselves to me, and like Professor McGonagall said, they've been given veriteserum." Harry said authoritatively, as if he were leading his young aurors through a particularly difficult training exercise. "And even the fraud who impersonated Moody couldn't withstand that."

"Now, on to Voldemort, there is already a bit of a plan in place…" As Harry went on to explain Draco's plan, he watched as the eyes around him widened. Astoria's presence became clear, and the Malfoy family was seen in a whole new light. "Draco Malfoy has risked his life in order to help us bring down Voldemort. Though we don't know for sure, I find it unlikely he will last long, if he hasn't already been discovered. In which case, we can only hope that Voldemort will let him live long enough to contact us."

"If he does let him live, it'll be Hell to pay." Neville said darkly. Harry nodded minutely before continuing his explanation of the still unknown trinket, and their efforts thus far in retrieving said trinket.

"How do we know he's not already dead?" someone asked, making the room mutually flinch and watch as Astoria's still face suddenly reddened in anger.

"Don't you say it! He's not! And- who – what right have you to say such things?" Astoria stammered, her sudden rush of emotion making it hard to articulate.

"Ernie MacMillan, and I beg your pardon, but you haven't found whatever the trinket it, so you wouldn't know, would you?"

"Alright." Harry said, demanding silence. "Knowing Voldemort, if Mafoy was dead we would know. Voldemort would have made a spectacle of it. So it remains a mystery of whether he is yet undiscovered, or being held prisoner to be used for some other purpose. That is why it is imperative we find the trinket." Astoria lowered her gaze to her hands, her effort to hide a guilty expression going unnoticed.

" _Or,_ even more likely, this has all been an act to get a spy into _your_ home. Do you really think he's changed so much from school? Has the mark suddenly become meaningless in your all's eyes? He was a bloody _death eater_ who helped the Carrows, who tried to kill Harry, who boasted and brayed about the Dark Lord like he was a God!" Ernie interrupted, his voice growing in volume with each sentence, and Astoria's face shot up to meet Ernie's eyes.

"He has changed! I wouldn't have married him if he was still a supporter of that evil monster!"

"Well, sure, says you! But you're a Slytherin, aren't you!? Since when do Slytherins have such differing ideals!?" Ernie was on his feet now, his own face red with rage. He pointed his finger menacingly at Astoria. "HARRY POTTER IS THE ONLY MAN WHO CAN DEFEAT YOU-KNOW-WHO, AND HE'S GONE AND LET A SNAKE IN HIS OWN HOUSE! I WON'T STAND FOR IT!"

Suddenly everyone was on their feet, wands drawn.

" **ENOUGH**!" A loud bang was heard and smoke filled the room, blurring everyone's vision. With a violent slash, a powerful expelliarmus maxima was cast and everyone's wands were torn from their grasps and flew towards Harry, who waved his wand again, freezing them midair in front of him. The smoke cleared, and they all watched with intensity. Another flick, and the wands landed gracefully on the table, rolling back to their respective owners. Each picked up their wand delicately and took a seat, all except Harry and Ernie.

" _Enough."_ He whispered dangerously, his own eyes dancing with fury. "You forget, Ernie, that you do not have all the details. All the details are not required for you to be of help in this next war. I, on the other hand, do.

I was a witness during the Malfoy trial, and it is because of me that Malfoy walked free, or have you forgotten? It was quite a scandal at the time." Harry added sarcastically. Ernie glared back defiantly, but at Harry's expectance, he relented and in much more respectful tones answered.

"Yes, I remember. And I also remember _why_ it was such a scandal. The Savior of the Wizarding World defending a Death Eater, one of the inner circle who tried to kill you during the Battle of Hogwarts. His own home was You-Know-Who's headquarters, where people were murdered, and tortured, and held captive, and he did nothing about it! He let Death Eaters into the castle, tried to murder Dumbledore, nearly killed Katie Bell and Ron Weasley, and yet _you_ defended him! It was a betrayal, and you never gave testimony to the _rest of us_ as to _why._ What the hell kind of evidence did you have that vindicated someone like him!? If we're expected to possibly risk our lives on his behalf, I think we ought to know!"

Harry had allowed Ernie to finish without interruption, but held up his hand to silence any other possible comments.

"I have my reasons, and they are sufficient for me. I am not going to stand here and defend myself because suddenly _you_ doubt me. That's your problem, not mine. Same with anyone else." At this Harry glared at the rest gathered, as if daring them to speak up. Though many couldn't meet his gaze, many met it with pride and assent, their belief in Harry apparent.

"I trust him, and I believe he truly wants to take Voldemort down. I will do my utmost to help him, and I will protect his family in the meantime." Harry continued. "If you do not agree with me, that's fine, but I will not allow dissension among the members of this order. Dumbledore always had his reasons for trusting Snape, and all we could do was believe that Dumbledore knew what he was doing.

So, do you trust me?" Harry asked, his tone softening. His gaze fell on Ernie, who blushed deeply. Anger still simmered in his expression.

"I do trust you Potter, but I still don't agree with you. I hope I'm proven wrong." Ernie returned to his seat stiffly, and Harry nodded graciously, taking his own seat.

"Good. Now back to business. Firstly, we need to find out more about Henrick Ollivander. Frankly, I'm ashamed he was never even on my radar until he was standing in front of a barely risen Voldemort… Ron, George, I need you to go to Ollivander's wand shop tomorrow and see what he knows. They must be related – especially considering he made Voldemort a new wand. Hermione, I need you to look into the archives and find out what you can about him – past criminal records, family relations, connections to Voldemort, anything that raises a red flag, got it?"

They all nodded, Hermione taking notes in a second notebook.

"Secondly, we need a protection detail for Narcissa Malfoy. She is in France visiting family. Not only is she a relative and will be a target because of Draco's treason, but she herself betrayed Voldemort. I doubt he will take kindly to that…"

"I'm the head of the International Travel and Communications Department. I could go right away, though I doubt she would be easy to convince." Ernie MacMillan piped up, eager to show his support.

"I could go with you. I'm her sister, after all." Andromeda said. "She can come stay with me. I refused to leave my home to come to this house with the rest of the family, so there's plenty of room. My house is more than safe enough with all the protections and wards Remus placed on it during the last war. Besides, I think it would be more comfortable for her if she wasn't surrounded by a horde of Gryffindors and Weasleys, if you'll forgive my saying so." The Weasleys all nodded their heads, more than willing to keep Narcissa Malfoy as far away from them as possible.

"The Gryffindors and Weasleys would be more comfortable without _her,_ you mean. I don't care what she did the last war, she still gives me the creeps." Someone who sounded very much like George said in a hushed tones.

"Alright, that's settled." Harry concluded.

Fleur suddenly raised her hand. "Harry, should we be sending out a protection detail for _your_ relatives?" She asked nervously.

Silence followed her question, all looking curiously at Harry. "Yes, I, um, actually arranged it already with Dedalus. He and Hestia went to the Dursley's this morning to offer protection."

"How did it go?" McGonagall asked suspiciously.

"Ah, well…" Dedulas began.

"They refused our help. They wouldn't even let us in, and when we explained the situation they, eh, were less than pleased. There was quite a bit of shouting, and they demanded that we leave them quite alone." Hestia finished bluntly, her gaze switching between Dedulas and Harry.

The room fell silent as the possible implications of such a decision were realized.

"Do…do you really think Voldemort would go after them? I understand you've not been in contact with my sister for many years? What would be the point, after all?" Lily whispered hesitantly, fearful of the answer.

"I doubt You-Know-Who will leave them alone. Last time they returned to a house nearly blown to bits, filled with curses and traps that took ages to remove and deconstruct." Dedalus answered.

"And though I don't necessarily _hide_ my dislike for my relatives, it's still relatively unknown the extent of our mutual, erm…" Harry tried to explain.

"Hate?"

"Disdain?"

"Absolute abhorrence and revulsion? Mostly on your part regarding them, of course." Harry looked at Ron, Ginny, and Hermione each in turn humorously, trying to keep a straight face. "Erm, yeah pretty much. Last time the fear was that the Dursley's would be taken in an effort to draw me in. They thought I would try to save them, and they could set a trap. It's possible Voldemort could go for the same bait again."

Harry was hit with deja-vu as once again the question of _would he try and save them?_ hung in the air, only this time it was shared by nearly all gathered.

After a beat, the awkwardness was thankfully broken by Lily. "Maybe I could go? I haven't seen Tuney in – well, for her it would be over 30 years. I feel certain I could convince her."

"I'm not sure… I mean, you also have been dead for over 30 years…" Harry began.

"Really, I think it would be good. It might give Vernon a well-deserved heart attack, but Tuney has always been rather healthy." The humorous effort was noted, and a few smiles were cracked. "Besides, I have some things I would like to discuss with her." Lily finished coldly, and all humor vanished. It felt as if the temperature dropped multiple degrees.

Harry cleared his throat. "Right. Well, I can't say _I_ look forward to going there, but I could never forgive myself if something happened to them on my account. If you didn't go, then I would."

"But where will they stay?" Kingsley asked.

"Couldn't they come here?" Teddy asked.

A resounding "NO!" was heard all around the table, some more forceful than others.

"Oh Merlin, the shouting would be horrendous." Ginny remarked, and Harry grimaced. Teddy only looked at his god-father, confusion and worry etched on his face. Harry had never really talked about his relatives, and now he was beginning to understand why...

"The plan was for them to come stay with me. I have a large house, and if they didn't want to, technically they could get away without even seeing me at all!" Dedalus called out over the mutinous murmurs regarding Harry's relatives.

"Alright, then I think it's settled. Dedulas and Hestia, with Eleanor, Arthur, and Bill, can I trust you to take my mum? I want to make sure she's safe…" Harry instructed.

"From the death eaters or the Dursleys…?" someone muttered, again sounding very much like George.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I would go myself, but I honestly think it would do more harm than good at this point. They probably wouldn't even open the door, much less listen to anything I have to say." Harry finished, ignoring the continued mutters and angry comments being whispered back and forth.

Lily nodded sadly, James angrily. Harry made to continue the meeting when suddenly, another gasp was heard, and he turned to see its source. It wasn't Hermione this time, but Astoria. She clutched her chest as if in pain, her eyes closed. Her other hand flew to her forehead, as if trying to stop a traumatic headache.

"Astoria, is everything alright?" Arthur asked, squeezing her arm to steady her as she swayed dangerously.

"I – I'm fine. Just –" another gasp, and she doubled over as if she was going to be sick.

"C'mon dear, we'll help you to your room." Molly clucked, helping Astoria rise from her chair.

"I'm sorry, I am often ill. Forgive me." She managed to say as she was led out, Arthur supporting her.

"So it's true, then, what they say about Mrs. Draco Malfoy." Eleanor said from the other end of the table, her eyebrows raised.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked as everyone's gazes returned from the door back to the table and those still gathered. There were many in the room, especially the women present, who only nodded in affirmation to Eleanor's statement.

"Is this something that happens on a regular basis?" George added.

"Apparently, Astoria Malfoy has a curse I hear, put on her by some wizard whose family died in the war. It was an act of vengeance against a death eater who walked free." Eleanor said with an air of aloofness.

"Pishposh, it has to do with blood lines, and their family being so full of inbreeding." Angelina said, with that same tone.

"Wasn't she always a bit ill? Or was it only after having Scorpius?"

"I wouldn't doubt someone cursed that family – he _is_ the only accused death eater who walked free, after all!"

"How do we know this is a regular occurrence? It can't have been only the one time?"

The chattering continued like a buzz, until Ginny finally made herself heard above the din. "QUIT IT! We are not a lot of gossiping old maids, for Merlin's sake! It's her own business, not ours. Can we get back to the meeting, please?" Ginny demanded, and murmurs of agreement were once again heard, and Harry continued.

"Susan, I was thinking about getting some support from members of the wizangamot, considering your seat on it and your many connections. It is essential that the new laws and regulations we set in place since 1998 concerning trials and evidence remain intact. _No one_ can be sentenced to Azkaban without a trial this time round." Susan nodded, taking notes. "I'll also need any and all names of those up for promotion, particularly the law office, the minister's office, the department of mysteries, and most especially who is being considered for the new department head for Magical Law Enforcement. I know Hermione has been up for the position for some time, and if she doesn't get it we need to know who will. We absolutely cannot have radicals like Crouch, or pushovers, or anyone likely to fall to Voldemort's cause heading departments or having undue influence. Understood?"

"Related to that, if there are suggestions for recruitment options, please pass them by me and I will consider it; however, I have recently gained quite a bit more support from the ministry as a whole, and I would like to keep the ministry and the Order as separate as possible. The purpose of the Order is to be able to avoid the bureaucracy, and act without going through the red tape. I would like to keep it that way."

For the rest of the meeting, Lily sat in stony silence, arms folded tightly against her body. James wrapped his arm around her shoulders tightly, catching her eye finally, after multiple failed attempts.

"I'll go with you." He said, and she gave a small smile, grateful for his support. It was going to be quite the reunion.

 **A/N – PHEW, quite an explosive meeting… what did you think? There's a lot of hot heads in here!**

 **So… Lily gets to meet with Petunia again after all this time! Oh boy… What do you think? Should Lily forgive Petunia? Should Petunia even seek forgiveness to begin with?I guess you'll have to wait and see!  
**

 **Do give me your thoughts on how you think the story is going so far** **I really appreciate it!**


	32. Chapter 32

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 32: Scorpius' Discovery

" _HARRY POTTER IS THE ONLY MAN WHO CAN DEFEAT YOU-KNOW-WHO, AND HE'S GONE AND LET A SNAKE IN HIS OWN HOUSE! I WON'T STAND FOR IT!" the extendable ears were not needed for that last statement, so loud was it the door seemed to shake._

 _"ENOUGH!" Harry shouted, demanding silence. Scorpius never found out what happened next._

…

He couldn't listen anymore. Scorpius stepped away, not looking anyone in the eye, and walked down the hallway to his bedroom. Shutting it quietly, he sat on one of the two beds inside, the other bed belonging to his mother. _Why did his dad have to disappear like that? He wasn't a hero, so why would he try to be one now? What if he was hurt? Or worse, what if… no. He couldn't think like that._

He flinched slightly, startled by the door opening to reveal Albus.

"Hey." Albus said, standing awkwardly in the doorway. He seemed to make a decision, and strode inside, sitting on the other bed across from Scorpius, only a foot separating them.

"You're scared for your dad, right?" he asked timidly. Scorpius snorted humorlessly at the obvious question, and nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Look, he'll be alright. My dad will make sure of it."

"Why? No offense, but I didn't even know any of you until today, and the only thing I've ever heard about the Potter Family is how much my dad hated yours in school, and vice versa. Our dads were enemies, Albus. I might not know much about the war, but I know that our dads fought on opposite sides. Why would you dad even care?" he asked sharply.

"Because he said he would help and my dad isn't a liar. And because my dad is a very powerful wizard, obviously. I mean, he's an auror, and I don't know much either, but I know that my dad won the war."

"Oh, really? And how are you so sure? How do you know he hasn't been lying to you about the war?" Scorpius knew he was being unfair to Albus, but right now he didn't seem to care.

Albus huffed, taking a deep breath. "I know he did, I just don't… know… how…" he trailed off before starting up again with renewed energy. "He doesn't talk about it, alright? Not at all. But everyone says so – everyone always wants to shake his hand, and thank him, or give him gifts and stuff. We ask, but he only says he'll tell us about it when we're older. Only Teddy tells us anything."

"So, how do you know, then? How do you know what he did or didn't do?"

"Because," came a second voice from the doorway. Victoire had walked in, having overheard their heated discussion from the hallway. "I took modern history class in fifth year, and a large part of it is devoted to the second war with Voldemort. And because my parents aren't nearly as secretive as Uncle Harry. We all know he hates talking about it, so we've stopped asking him, but there are plenty in the family more willing to answer our questions.

But if there's one thing I know about Uncle Harry, it's this: he is a good man, and he will do anything to save someone else. He will do everything in his power to help your father, Scorpius. You just have to trust him. In the meantime, you might as well be patient and try to keep your mind off the what-ifs." With a gentle squeeze of his shoulder, she turned and went back to the landing.

Scorpius stared after her as she left them alone, having left her mark. He continued to contemplate, her words sinking in. He directed his gaze back to Albus. "Sounds like your dad was a right hero, then, and he's on the road to be one again. Mine was a death eater."

"Not anymore, though. He may have been a death eater before, but now he's a hero." Albus said, reaching across and putting his hand on Scorpius' shoulder. Scorpius was surprised at the gesture, as if their argument had never happened. He couldn't help but smile a little at that, thinking of his dad as a hero. _His dad, Draco Malfoy._

When they went out in public, his father was often insulted by others, and many would glare at their family in disgust. His parents refused to tell him why, only saying the same thing as the Potter children heard from their own father: "I'll tell you when you're older."

Draco always seemed a bit secretive, like he was ashamed of something, and it made it hard for him to show his emotions. He was a strict father, quick to reprimand, slow to praise and affection. It was the traditional "Malfoy Way" and though Draco claimed he didn't want to raise his son like he was raised, some habits were hard to break, and some childhood lessons could not be rewritten.

Scorpius had always wondered what kind of childhood his father had had that such a tradition was necessary and so strictly upheld. But Scorpius knew it was just how his father was, and he always knew his father loved him. Until recently, Scorpius had always wanted to be just like his dad, and would tell his dad so often. He didn't say that anymore, though, because only a couple months before his tenth birthday, his innocent worship of his father was shattered.

Scorpius thought back to that day - the first time he saw his father's scar on his left arm. That summer had been their first attempt at a garden, and Astoria really didn't know what she was doing. Herbology hadn't been her strong suit, and unfortunately it hadn't been Draco's either; but she and Scorpius had begged and pleaded, and suddenly the haphazard and messy garden became a family affair. Scorpius was always happy to help in the garden, especially since his mother's health was declining swiftly, and it was becoming harder for his mother to leave the house at all - especially to do such manual labor as the garden required.

"According to "Warlock's Weeds and How to Avoid Them," digging and planting a garden by Magic tends to encourage the growth of weeds and invites gnomes. So, we'll just have to do it the muggle way: by hand!" She said excitedly, and her enthusiasm was only met with a very incredulous look from his father, as if his wife had lost her mind. In fact, he asked her just that, and after another enthusiastic response from Astoria, he rolled his eyes.

"See? This. _This_ right here is why we need a house-elf. I don't care if bloody Granger has them on payroll now, I'm willing to pay it, I swear. I mean, _the muggle way?_ Are gnomes really that big a deal?" He continued to complain, until finally being shushed good-naturedly, and they all got to work, digging trenches and uprooting the lawn. Despite his initial complaints, Scorpius had never seen his father more relaxed and content. It had been so hot that his dad had rolled up his sleeves, laughing as Astoria sprayed him with water, pulling out his own wand in defense. Draco pushed his sleeves up past his elbows…

That's when Scorpius saw it.

It was dark and ugly, mangled and painful looking – like someone had taken a brand to his father's flesh, and the wound hadn't healed properly. Scorpius had gasped out loud, clutching his dad's hand to get a better look, asking what happened.

His father had hastened to roll his sleeves back down again, anger driving him back in the house. Scorpius had thought it was anger at him that had driven his father away that day, and was only more upset as his mother stomped after Draco, and he could hear a row taking place in their bedroom. He learned later it wasn't anger, but shame and self-deprecation.

He had felt so guilty the rest of the day for being the cause of his parents fight. He played alone the rest of the day, and dinner was an awkward affair with his father obtrusively absent. When his mother planted a kiss on his cheek and told him to go to bed, he didn't argue. But as he lay awake that night, he heard the door creak slightly and felt the weight of his father sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Scorpius? I know you're still awake. I want to talk to you about earlier today." Draco had said. Scorpius rose into a sitting position, smelling the hint of alcohol on his dad's breath. He knew his father drank, of course, but it was always in his study, and never in front of Scorpius. When his father disappeared in his study for hours on end, Scorpius knew it was because he was upset about something; like whenever he returned from visiting his father in prison, or from the Ministry of Magic, where he gave semi-annual reports – of what Scorpius didn't know. All he knew was that he ought not to disturb. It was strange to see and smell his father like this now, and it only made Scorpius more confused.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you angry…" he began, holding back tears as he waited for his father's reply.

"No, it wasn't you, Scorpius. I shouldn't have reacted like that. I wasn't angry at you, son, I - I was angry at myself… I still am, I suppose." Draco trailed off, not looking at the younger Malfoy. Then, he took a deep breath, as if preparing to take the plunge, and met his son's gaze. "Scorpius, I need to tell you something, and it's not something that is easily said. It won't be easy for you to hear, either; but, as you're going to Hogwarts next year, I suppose it must be said sooner rather than later."

Scorpius could only listen as his father began, dread beginning to pool in his stomach.

"There used to be a Dark Wizard, whose name some are still too afraid to say. His name was Lord…" another deep breath, "Lord Voldemort. He was the cause of a lot of suffering, and death." Draco sighed, and spoke deliberately, as if he wanted to make sure Scorpius got every word. "When I was a teenager, there was a war, and I fought on the wrong side. I – I was fooled into thinking the Dark Lord – Voldemort, I mean - was right; that he was someone to be admired. I regret the things I did in his service, even to this day."

Scorpius could only stare at his father's change in countenance. He had never witnessed this side of him – he was not stiff-necked and prideful like in public, nor was he that understated contentment and happy like when he was at home. Sure, there had been times when Draco was upset, or would suddenly become somber, and Scorpius knew it had to do with that "secret" he could only know when he was older, but even that didn't compare with now.

This wasn't his dad at all, and his father struggled to even look him in the eye. It scared him a little, and he listened closely, striving to impress his father's every word in his mind, so as to never forget.

"I've not always been a good man, Scorpius. But I've tried to become someone you can be proud of ever since his downfall. That's what this scar is from. It's a brand, a tattoo, burned into my flesh as proof of my loyalty to him. All his followers have it." It was as if his father were speaking from somewhere far away – his words echoing in Scorpius' head. _Not a good man? What child didn't think the best of their father? Until proven otherwise, that is...  
_

"I wish I had never done the things I did, nor made the choices I made." Draco continued, as Scorpius stared blankly at him. "I hurt people, and I was the cause of terrible things. I was a coward who did not stand up for what was right. _I want you to grow up to be a better man than me, Scorpius_."

Finally, Scorpius knew why others regarded their family, his father, with such disdain. Finally, he understood why Draco did not smile easily, nor was prone to affection. His father was scarred, and not just physically. He was haunted by the memories of the things he had seen, and done.

"I – I just thought it was time for you to know." His father finished, having said all he was going to say. He looked at his son expectantly.

"Scorpius? Is there… I mean… is there anything you want to ask? Want to say?" Scorpius remained speechless, unsure how to respond to such a confession. Finally, realizing that Scorpius wasn't going to speak, Draco met his son's gaze, defeated. "Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow." He said.

Draco tried to pull his son in for a hug, perhaps to plant a light kiss on Scorpius' head, but Scorpius only flinched and drew away. This caused Draco to do the same, and Scorpius would never forget the look of hurt that flashed in his father's eyes.

"What kinds of things did you do?" Scorpius whispered. He immediately regretted his reaction, and the words as they came out of his mouth.

A beat. "Hopefully you'll never need to know." Draco replied, and just as soon as it had come, the vulnerability was gone, and returned was the straight-back and the stiff-neck of a noble Malfoy. But Scorpius was no longer fooled. He knew from then on it was all an act – a means for his father to hide what he was really feeling: shame. Unfortunately, that became Draco's constant from then on around his son.

Which is why Scorpius would forever lament that night. It seemed Draco's greatest fear was realized, as his only son rejected him and flinched away. He had disappointed Draco, and now his father would never trust him again. It created a rift between them, and their relationship had been strained and broken ever since. But he hoped that one day, he could earn it back.

He wanted his father to be proud of him. He wanted to see his father smile, and to have the feeling of his father's arms around him, like he had tried to do that night. It used to light up his whole world, until his ignorance was shattered.

He would do anything to have that again; to have his father back, and to be able to tell him he was proud to be his son. Now, he might never get the chance.

"C'mon." Albus spoke, bringing Scorpius out of his reverie. "Let's go play a game of chess downstairs. I'll bet Hugo would love to challenge you to a game. Two knuts says he wins."

Scorpius smiled again at Albus' attempt to distract him. He rather liked Albus. _Almost like a friend,_ he thought to himself. "Nah, I think I'd rather stay here." He admitted.

"Alright if I stay with you? You can tell me all about life as a Malfoy, and I'll tell you about life as a Potter. I bet there's some good and bad to both." He replied.

"Yeah, I guess that's alright." He said. _Maybe the Potters aren't so bad after all,_ he thought.

They had only been talking for maybe 10 minutes when suddenly, Victoire returned to the room.

"Scorpius! It's your mum! She seems to have taken ill. They're bringing her now." She said quickly.

"Again?" he asked. "She was just sick only this morning!" Victoire made to answer but was cut off by a gruff, "s'cuse me dear, coming through." Arthur and Molly Weasley entered, both supporting his mother as she stumbled to the bed and collapsed, clutching her throat and chest as if her heart were hurting. Molly sat beside her and began running vitals with her wand.

Molly's eyes widened. "Oh, dear. Your heart is racing! What in Merlin's name…?"

"I'm fine. Please… please just go…" Astoria stammered, striving to keep her eyes open. Another moan, almost a scream, escaped her lips as if she were in terrible pain, and trembles wracked her body. Scorpius had seen his mother ill on countless occasions over the years, but he had never seen her like this.

"I will do no such thing! Something is very wrong with you, and I've a mind to take you to St. Mungos!" Molly replied heatedly.

Suddenly, the trembling stopped, and the moans subsided, turned into heavy breathing. Molly quickly ran another diagnostics test, her lips opening in surprise.

"What is it, dear?" Arthur asked his wife, concerned.

"She seems fine now. Her results have evened out, and her heart rate is going back to normal… Astoria, dear? How do you feel?"

"I'm – I feel fine, now. It's normal, Molly. Please go, now." Astoria pleaded, turning her back on the Weasleys. Albus had moved to the end of her bed, and Scorpius met his mother's eyes, fearfully.

When the Weasleys hesitated, he said, "Really. It happens all the time, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. She will be better by tomorrow, hopefully." He knew it wasn't true though – even at her worst, she had never been in that much pain, but he knew his mother wanted privacy when she was sick.

The Weasleys and Albus nodded, and with a little more encouragement, left him and his mother alone. Scorpius waited a few seconds to make sure they were really gone before returning to his mother's side.

"Mother? What's wrong? What's happened?" he asked timidly, afraid of the answer. She only shook her head, and clutched her chest again, sweat beading her brow and her eyes struggling to stay open. Finally, she surrendered to sudden exhaustion, with only a small whisper of, "Draco, I love you." And unconsciousness took her.

Scorpius shook her gently, but she didn't wake. _Draco? His father wasn't even here! Was she hallucinating?_ The only sound was of her breathing, still ragged and forced. Her hand still grasping her cloak, wrapped tightly in front of her heart.

He made to pull the covers over her to make her more comfortable when a gleam caught his eye. A necklace; a gold necklace hung around his mother's neck. It was the necklace that she seemed to be clutching so desperately, he realized. He took the chain in his fingers, and suddenly his vision went dark. A voice, familiar but strained wracked his mind.

" _Why…?"_ it whispered. He recognized the voice. _Dad?_ He thought, and he released the chain in shock, relieved as his vision returned and his mind cleared.

He made for the necklace again, to try and pull it over her head, only this time he was hit by a powerful shock of pain, sent from his fingers, down his arms, to his whole body.

He yelped in pain, jumping back. His mother moaned again. _He had to get it off her! Surely this was what was causing his mother's distress._

Scorpius gulped, and prepared himself. He reached forward with both hands, taking the chain and forcing it over his mother's head, snagging and tugging at her hair, snatching it from her grasp underneath her cloak.

A scream echoed in his mind, like of someone in great pain, and suddenly he was no longer in the Prewett Manor. He was in a room, dark and dank, cold and gray. He was lying on the floor, a man standing over him with his wand raised.

His body trembled and shook, waves of pain assaulting him. More screams were heard, and he barely registered the other screams were coming from him. The man was shouting at him, spittle flying from his lips.

"Scorpius!"

" _For my mother, and for me. I deserve it! I earned it! I will have the glory, the vengeance, the power! I will no longer be Henrick, son of the suicide, peculiar freak nephew of the great Ollivander, no! I will be MORE!"_

"Scorpius!"

A heavy clunk and Scorpius shuddered, a new pain emanating from his knees. Light filled his vision as his consciousness returned to his bedroom. He had fallen to the ground, and he no longer had the necklace.

"Merlin! What was that thing?" Scorpius heard, and he looked around to see Albus sitting on the ground close to him, the necklace on the ground by Albus' feet.

 _Merlin._

"That…that's it! That's the trinket mother and Mr. Potter spoke about in the Order meeting. This was what my father had left behind!" he answered excitedly, still sore but the pain was fading quickly. _But… the screams. The pain? His father was dying! He was in so much pain, and the owner of the other voice… Ollivander – Henrick Ollivander! He was torturing his father! How could he? Why?_

 _Scorpius had to help him. He had to save his father, and… and then, maybe his father would be proud of him? Draco wouldn't be disappointed in him anymore…_

"So you're saying this is what your mum and my dad have been looking for this whole time? But your mum had it all along! Why wouldn't she tell me dad? And why were you screaming when you were wearing it?"

Scorpius could only stare blankly at his friend. How could he explain what he saw? That it was like he was in his father's mind… _And why did his mother keep it a secret? Didn't she want Draco to be found? Maybe she knew something the rest didn't – about why should couldn't trust Mr. Potter?_

He didn't know why, but his mother must have a reason. But his mother was out of reach now, sick and exhausted.

"I don't know why she's keeping it a secret, but I know she has her reasons. We can't tell anyone, Albus. Not until she wakes up, at least."

"But, this could save your dad! Why wouldn't she…"

"I don't know, alright! But she's my mother, and I have to trust her. Please. Will you keep this secret for me?"

Albus thought for a moment, contemplating the possible ramifications. But at the look from his new friend, he couldn't bear to let him down. "Yes." He said, nodding for emphasis. "But only until your mum wakes up, and then we can ask her together."

Scorpius smiled, relieved. This really was turning into something like a friendship.

 **A/N – oof, tough stuff, eh? Please Review!**


	33. Chapter 33

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 33: Sister's Reunion

Petunia Dursley had never considered herself a "nice" woman. She wasn't kind, she wasn't outgoing, she wasn't pleasant to be around. She never had been. That had never stopped her from having plenty of friends and admirers, however. Although, many would argue her definition of _friend._

As a girl, she had always been very popular – the leader of the group, ruler of the school, the one who told others where to go and what to do. She wasn't the most beautiful, but she was clever and knew how to make the beautiful girls seem less so, feel less so, and feel obligated to defer to her judgement.

As a result, she was apt to jealousy and jealous outbursts – catty remarks, rumors, and gossip in order to keep her "spot at the top." The whole school was under her thumb, fearful of being the object of her ire.

All except for her sister, Lily, of course. Lily was the only one who saw petunia's true self – her fears, her insecurities, and anxieties. Lily was Petunia's only true friend when she was a girl; the only one Petunia could be honest and open with. Petunia didn't have to say so; Lily just _knew_ when something was off – like she _saw_ everything _._

Lily had always had something of a "sixth sense" when it came to reading people; like she could discern them. As a result, Lily was also popular – only in a completely different way. People enjoyed Lily's company, because Lily was a listening ear, kind-hearted, funny, and beautiful like a bright ray of sunshine, both inside and out. Where Petunia got by with minimal good looks and an attitude to burst even the happiest bubble into a puddle of resentful subjugation, Lily praised and blew others self-confidence high enough to reach the stars. People felt free and liberated when talking to Lily.

And Lily could fly. Not just figuratively, but literally. She soared from tree branches to the ground, from the swings' highest arc to the soft grass below. She was graceful. Blossoms seemed to bloom at her feet, birds seemed to sing at her presence, and even the angriest and saddest person seem to calm and find peace when she took their hand.

Petunia grew to hate it.

She hated the way her parents doted on her, the way that Snape boy followed her like a puppy, filling her head with lies. She hated the way the neighbors called to Lily from their porches and lawns to say hello - never bothering the same with "Lily's sour older sister."

How was it possible? There had to be some explanation – something that Lily naturally had that Petunia did not. Snape would call it magic, but Petunia would always vehemently deny anything of the sort.

Until one day when Petunia was 14 and Lily had just turned 11, a tall and stern woman in square spectacles and a ridiculously pointy hat entered their lives, sat the family on the couch in the living room, and told them the impossible.

Severus Snape had been right, and Lily was proven to be special.

More so than Petunia could ever hope to be.

And Petunia's jealousy grew, like a demon without a conscience. Every smile, every friend, every letter, every reminder of Lily's magic fed the demon, starving Petunia of affection and tenderness, until there was none left.

Years passed, and by the time Petunia went on to university and left her sister behind, they had become nothing more than strangers who had shared a house. They no longer spoke, confided, nor regarded the other with any degree of deference or concern.

At least on Petunia's part. Lily continued to struggle every summer, and fought to regain what they once had as primary children – with no success. Lily was no match for Petunia's demon.

When their father passed away of cancer during Petunia's first year in university, Petunia put her education on hold and moved back home to try and comfort her grieving mother. Lily also returned home, but for only a week to attend the funeral, and then back to "that school" to finish her _magical_ education.

Petunia was furious. The day after the funeral, Petunia and Lily had an almighty row. If Lily was so _special_ and _powerful,_ why didn't she help their father? If magic could do anything, why couldn't it do that? And how could Lily love that world so much? It was as if she loved it more than her own family, and Petunia told Lily as much.

Oh, Lily cried and tried to explain, but Petunia wouldn't hear it. The next day, Lily returned to that school, despite Petunia's accusations of selfishness, and Petunia was left to pick up the pieces of their mother's lonely and broken heart. And this time, Lily never wrote to Petunia again. She wrote to their mother, but not once did she write to Petunia.

It seemed Lily had had enough, and had chosen their father's death the time to prove it. A low blow, in Petunia's opinion.

Then, when Petunia returned to university a year later and met Vernon, Lily had insisted Petunia tell him the truth about her "abnormality." It wasn't enough to say that Lily was "unique" and had been away at a boarding school their whole childhood – no, Lily wanted Vernon to know she had _magic._

Petunia obviously refused. Vernon might have ended their engagement on that note alone. Just imagine, the possibility of passing on _magic genes_ to their own children! The thought of ever conceiving a freak was enough to make Petunia vomit and want to forgo children altogether, and she shuddered to think of Vernon's opinion on the matter.

No, she would keep it quiet. Vernon would never have to know. That had been the plan, anyway.

It was the summer of 1979, and Petunia was five months pregnant. Vernon couldn't be happier; Petunia couldn't be more anxious. _If the baby was born abnormal, would Vernon even want to stay?_ The fear plagued her every thought, waking and sleeping. The doctors called it prenatal depression, and Petunia accepted their diagnosis without hesitation, knowing the truth of her anxiety could never be revealed. That is, until all her lies were forcibly revealed by means of a wedding invitation, and a surprise visit by none other than her sister with a handsome young man in tow.

They had just sat down to eat after a long day of work – Petunia as a receptionist at the office Vernon worked at as a salesman – when the doorbell rang. After much effort and some grunting for Vernon to rise from his seat at the table, he went to go answer the door. Petunia rose to wash some dishes until he returned. A male voice sounded from the hallway.

"Hello, Vernon, is it? I'm so pleased to find you both at home – I hope we're not intruding." Was said cheerily from the doorway.

"Petunia, it's your sister!" Vernon called down the hall. "Did you know she was coming?"

 _What?_ Petunia's blood ran cold. _It couldn't be…_ struggling to control her now racing heart, she hurried to the front door.

And there she was – long, red hair, bright green eyes, smooth, creamy skin. Lily – perfect Lily, standing on the doorstep nervously, next to a very handsome young man, who held her hand. He was tall and thin, muscular, athletic, with black hair looking like he'd just gotten off the back of a motorcycle. And he had very attractive, hazel eyes behind frames that seemed to exaggerate his good looks. He even dressed well, in slacks and a vest, putting forward a show of comfort and professionalism at the same time.

Petunia looked back and forth between this new man and her own husband. Petunia loved her husband dearly, and Vernon was everything she had ever dreamed of: Strong, protective, doting, and wealthy. Security was the operative word to describe Vernon's allure to her when he first asked her out.

Attractive was not.

Bulky and stocky were more often the polite words used.

The demon within her roared to see her younger sister – so perfect, pretty, and special with such a man beside her. She seemed happy, in a way Petunia would never hope to be. She had given it up long ago, before she even met Vernon.

All these thoughts flew through her mind before she was suddenly engulfed in flames of red locks and the smell of strawberry shampoo.

"Lily – what? What are you doing here?" She asked sharply. They hadn't even spoken since Petunia's wedding over a year ago, and even then, it was one of the biggest arguments they had ever had.

Petunia had kicked Lily out of her wedding and told her she didn't want her as a bridesmaid anymore. Lily had been shocked and hurt, but completely over-reacted in Petunia's opinion. Lily had been forced to give up her bridesmaid dress to another girl. Whatever guilt Petunia had felt over the matter was easily replaced with righteous indignation, knowing Lily deserved it after almost revealing her "abnormality" to Vernon on the premise of, "Well, he ought to know before he marries you, considering he very well may end up with a magical child! If he isn't willing to go through with it, then maybe you shouldn't marry him at all."

The nerve.

Petunia was brought back to the present. "Lily, what are you doing here?" Petunia asked again. Lily blushed, releasing her sister quickly as if embarrassed by her sudden outburst.

"I – I wanted to see you. I – we, that is, we have good news to share with you. Might we come in?"

Petunia seemed to still be in shock, and so it fell on Vernon to invite them into the drawing room. Lily sat on the couch, and the man beside her squeezed her hand gently, as if to comfort her.

Petunia did not offer tea.

The silence lengthened awkwardly, until finally Lily broke it with forced cheeriness.

"Tuney, this is James. We wanted to tell you in person before mother called you to tell you herself. We just came from there, and you know the woman can't bear to keep a secret for more than five minutes." She giggled, her humor half-hearted and desperate.

"Well, she lives five hours from here, so you've obviously underestimated her ability." Vernon replied. James began to laugh as if Vernon had made a joke, but stopped quickly when no one else joined in. The room suddenly grew very tense.

"You… you still haven't told him?" Lily asked quietly, her voice full of disappointment. "Tuney you're pregnant! He still doesn't know?"

"Told me what?" Vernon asked sharply. Silence followed his question. James fidgeted sheepishly, and Lily tried to catch Petunia's eye, but Petunia didn't meet her gaze. She only stared at the ground, her lips thin and pursed.

"Petunia, dear, what is going on?" Vernon asked again, gently this time. "And what is it they know that I don't?" Petunia only looked away, pulling away from his outstretched hand to seek her own.

"Would you like me to tell him?" Lily asked.

"No."

"It might be easier if we showed –"

"No. I want you to leave, immediately." Petunia responded, anger lacing her tone. More beats of awkward silence. Tears began to show in Lily's eyes.

"Petunia, this is not how I wanted this to go. Please believe me…"

"Get out." Petunia said harshly. It was clear she would not ask again.

Lily rose quickly, almost bolting from the room. It was obvious Lily wanted to escape before tears began to flow freely. James was left on the couch alone, and then he too rose to follow. Before exiting, however, he withdrew a card from his vest pocket and extended it to Petunia.

Petunia looked at it briefly before again averting her gaze to stare at the ground. It was a wedding invitation. Vernon took it in her stead, and then got to his own feet to walk James to the door. Petunia flinched as she heard the door shut, and she could swear she heard a distinct _crack!_ as sign of her sister's disappearance.

Her husband's heavy footfalls made their way down the hall to the drawing room. As he entered, he stopped short.

"Petunia, dear, are these pictures moving?"

Petunia closed her eyes in defeat. She hugged her steadily growing belly protectively. It was going to be a long night.

…

 **Present Day**

James watched his wife attentively as they walked up the front step of Number 4 Privet Drive. She was nervous, and he squeezed her hand gently, hoping his presence could be of some comfort. He could still remember the last time he had been there, over 30 years ago, and the disaster that had resulted. Lily hadn't stopped crying for what seemed like days.

Dedulas and Hestia had gone to visit Dudley and his family, leaving Lily and James to deal with Vernon and Petunia. Harry had suggested it might be easier to talk to Petunia alone, so they had waited until they saw Vernon drive away. How much time they had was unknown, but hopefully it would be enough. Lily knocked on the door, her hand shaking. They waited for what seemed like an eternity, and he wondered if he ought to ring the doorbell. James raised his finger towards the doorbell when…

The door opened abruptly.

Petunia Dursley was staring at them – or at least a much older version of the one he remembered. She was still bony, and her face more horselike than ever, but she wore glasses now. Small ones with very thin frames as if in effort to hide them in plain sight. She was pale, and her hair an unnatural platinum blonde – dry and strawlike, possibly due to copious amount of hairdye to hide her grays.

She didn't move, but a myriad of expressions flashed across her face as she stared at him. She had yet to give even a glance to Lily, but instead was looking James up and down. Finally, she spoke, stammering as if she was unsure what to say.

"I - I thought you'd never come back. You said you wouldn't, and after you – you killed _him,_ why –"

Confusion first, and then dawning apprehension hit him. "Petunia, I think you've made a mistake." James cut her off. Petunia froze, then took a step back to better see James.

You… you're not Harry. Who are you?" She stammered, her initial shock turning to fear. Lily squeezed James' shoulder and stepped in front of him. Petunia's attention shifted to the red head, whose own face was pale, her green eyes shining with tears.

Petunia's eyes widened, and she took another step back, one hand flying to her heart while the other flew to the door to shut it in their faces. Before she could, Lily stepped forward, blocking the entranceway.

"Don't you recognize me, Tuney?" She asked quietly. Petunia yelped, but didn't try to move back again. Instead, she seemed to lean forward, as if a desire to come nearer was warring with logical sense.

"You…You're dead." Her eyes flew between both James and Lily, her hands beginning to stretch towards them as if to touch them and assure herself they weren't mere images – like a mirage in the desert. "You were both dead. How is this possible?" she asked tentatively.

"I'm back, Petunia. Magic brought me back." Petunia remained rigid, but her eyes seemed to fill with tears. She wiped them away mutinously, as if angry at their rebellion.

"We need to talk, Petunia." Lily said, producing a handkerchief out of thin air and handing it to her sister. The older woman hesitated before taking it, then blew her nose noisily.

"Yes. Yes, I suppose you're right. Although, how… How do I know it's you? What if this is a trick?" She asked quietly, the possibility suddenly dawning on her.

"If it is, I'm still the one with the wand, and you have no choice. So you might as well take my word for it." Lily said stonily, her wand arm twitching slightly for emphasis. Petunia paled even more, if it were possible. Recognizing the truth in those words, she nodded.

"You two go ahead. I'll just make us some tea, shall I?" James asked. Lily smiled gratefully at him, then followed Petunia through the kitchen and into the living room. Petunia gestured for Lily to take a seat. Her hands were shaking, and Lily was again grateful to James; she doubted Petunia would be able to manage tea in this state.

Petunia could only gaze at Lily, taking in every detail hungrily. "This is about that man, I take it? Voldemort? About how I refused Dedulas' and Hestia's offer of help?" Petunia began uncertainly. "I don't approve of such a trick. It's cruel, and it won't work." Petunia said, finally taking her eyes off her sister – or at least what appeared to be her sister. "You can tell that boy… I mean Harry… that we are fine without his help."

"Yes, this is about their offer of protection. But this is not a trick." Lily said quietly, reaching forward to grasp Petunia's hand. Petunia flinched back, angrily.

"Of course it's a trick! Lily died over 30 years ago! Just because I'm not _your kind_ does not mean I'm stupid." She hissed.

"Here." Lily whispered, drawing her hand back and putting her wand away for emphasis. "I don't mean to be cruel. I'll prove it to you." Petunia rolled her eyes, incredulous, but Lily continued undeterred. "Do you remember what Dad used to sing, when he would tuck us in to bed at night?"

Petunia met Lily's eyes suspiciously. "Yes. Yes of course."

"Would you like to sing it with me?" Lily asked. Petunia shook her head resolutely, so with a small sigh, Lily sang without her.

 _Flower is my lovely girl_

 _With hair like summer and sun._

 _Her smile so sweet, the earth seems to weep_

 _Her heart, 'twill never be won_

 _Flower is my lady in red_

 _More precious than sapphires and gold_

 _Her laugh so sweet, I can scarcely compete_

 _With the man her heart now owns'_

And then he would say, 'Good night my little flowers. You own my heart." Lily said wistfully, her own heart breaking.

Petunia tried to hide her smile as tears glistened in her eyes. "It's been ages since I heard that poem. I think that last time was…"

"When he died." Lily whispered.

"How do you know that? How do you know any of that? I wasn't under the impression Lily spoke much about dad with anyone – even those friends of hers at school…"

"That's because I didn't. I _am_ Lily. I –" At that, Lily began to cry almost in earnest. "I've only barely come back from where I was. I don't remember it at all, I just remember _him,_ Voldemort, arriving at the house and – and killing James, and trying to kill Harry. I tried to protect him, but… the next thing I remember is waking up in the nursery, and discovering I had been dead for 32 years." Lily sniffed, producing another handkerchief and daintily mopping her own eyes while Petunia did the same.

"How is it possible?" Petunia finally asked.

"Magic has many mysteries, Tuney. It is not something that could ever be replicated, I'm afraid. Just lucky, I suppose." Lily answered, chuckling humorlessly. Lily regained control of herself, and suddenly her gaze turned stony. "And you, Tuney. There were many things I discovered that happened while I've been away." Petunia paled, meeting Lily's eyes guiltily.

Suddenly the sound of a car arriving in the drive way broke their gaze, and Petunia turned sharply to look in the direction of the front door. "Oh no." she whispered.

The front door opened, and Petunia jumped to her feet. A man's deep voice was heard, "Petunia, dear, I've picked up the sausages –" his voice was cut off, presumably due to the fact that he had just entered the kitchen. Petunia looked at Lily in horror…

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!?" Petunia rushed into the kitchen, Lily hot on her heels. They entered to witness the beginning of quite a scene.

James stood in the kitchen, a pot of tea in one hand, his other hand reaching into the cupboard for a cup. It was as if he was frozen in place, unsure what to do, as if his thought process was screaming, _If I don't move, maybe he won't see me…_

It would have been bordering comical if the look on Vernon's face didn't threaten a nuclear fall out. His face was purple, his lips were puckered over the audible clenching of teeth, his fists were balled, and the groceries he had apparently been carrying now lay jumbled and broken on the floor.

Lily couldn't help but gasp at the other things she noticed about her brother-in-law. Petunia was not the only one who had drastically changed due to age. He stood in the entrance to the kitchen – filled the doorway, more like. The years had not been kind to the man. He was larger and beefier than ever, his stomach protruding far out, blocking out any chance of Vernon ever seeing his feet again regardless of position or posture. His white hair was considerably thinner on top, producing a bit of a shine, and it seemed what hair he had lost on his head had moved to his nostrils, ears, and his mustache, making it bushier than ever.

He heard the women enter, and squinted in their direction. Then his eyes widened in shock.

"PETUNIA! WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE!? CALL THE DAMNED POLICE! HE IS BREAKING AND ENTERING!" Petunia gulped audibly, wondering how to diffuse the situation.

"Vernon, darling – " she began, before being cut off again.

"DID YOU HEAR ME, BOY?! GET YOURSELF AND YOUR DIRTY WHORE OUT OF THIS HOUSE IMMEDIATELY, OR WE WILL HAVE YOU REMOVED BY FORCE!" Vernon's eyes bulged, his face reddening like a boiled tomato as he pointed his beefy finger at Lily, spittle flying from his lips.

Suddenly, James' brain seemed to freeze, his eyes seeing red. _This was what his son had faced for 16 years? This was the response that Harry expected all along, which was why he chose not to accompany them to visit the Dursleys? He had hoped and prayed it had all been an exaggeration, but this disgusting lump of a man proved that to be more than a false assumption – if anything, what he and Lily had been told concerning Harry's childhood had been an understatement._

Vernon raised his fists, threatening violence, and took a step towards who he believed to be his nephew.

And all Hell broke loose.

The teapot fell to the ground, shattering on the floor. Petunia gasped and covered her mouth in fright. Vernon reached forward to grab James by his throat, who in turn raised his wand, his eyes seeing red. "James, no!" was barely heard over the sudden rush in his ears.

There was a loud BANG! followed by a very heavy, floor shaking crash that caused dishes to rattle in their shelves and the windows to shiver as Vernon flew down the hall, smashing to the floor in a crumpled heap, knocked out cold.

Petunia stood in the kitchen, and shrieked, "What have you done?!" She rushed past them to her husband, kneeling at his side, slapping him lightly trying to wake him up. Lily followed, her own wand out.

"No! Keep that away from us! Stay away!" Petunia cried, shoving Lily away from her and falling down on her husband's chest dramatically.

"He'll be fine! Just –"

"You don't know that! He has a bad heart, he –"

"PETUNIA!" Silence filled the hallway as Lily bellowed her name. Petunia looked up at her sister who now stood over her, wand still raised. "Enough of this. Move aside." She said sharply. Lily ran a diagnostics test while Petunia continued to wail, her eyes buried in her handkerchief. Seeing nothing amiss but some bruises, and only a small concussion which would result in a bad headache, Lily stood back up.

"He'll be fine, he's just knocked out. And frankly, he deserves at least that for what he just did."

"What he just did? HE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING! HE ONLY MEANT TO PROTECT ME!" Petunia yelled standing up and facing her sister.

"PROTECT YOU FROM WHAT!? FROM _MY SON AND HIS WIFE_ , WHOM HE THOUGHT JAMES AND I TO BE!?"

Petunia could only stare, her mouth moving open and closed without a sound – like a fish out of water. Finally, she closed it with a clack, and relinquished her gaze, breaking eye contact.

"You were meant to be my sister, Petunia. Regardless of our past differences, _I died, dammit!_ And you should have been better! Harry was only a child, _how could you, Petunia!?"_ Lily's words, though loud at first, ended in a barely audible hiss.

Petunia seemed unwilling to speak.

" _Why?"_ Lily entreated one last time, tears in her eyes. Petunia finally looked up, but this time she only had eyes for her brother-in-law. She met his gaze, and seemed to study his face as if remembering something almost forgotten. After a few failed attempts, she finally spoke quietly, directing her words at James.

"You look just like him. Or – I suppose he looks like you. But not the eyes; never the eyes. He has Lily's eyes. Father's eyes, and –" Her voice broke, and she turned back to her younger sister, staring into those very eyes. "If Voldemort comes for us, I have no expectation of Harry coming to save us. We have never given him a reason to do anything of the sort." Petunia stated, her voice void of emotion.

Lily could only stare at her sister in disbelief. "What does his eyes have anything to do with it?" she growled, raising her wand in anger. It took all of her will-power not to curse her sister just as Vernon had been cursed. Petunia only stared down at her, her face stony. The almost penitent Petunia that had been in the drawing room was now gone, replaced by someone completely different.

After what seemed like an eternity, Petunia spoke, directed to James again, as if she found it easier to speak to him. Whether it was because he looked like Harry, or because he was basically a stranger, Lily didn't know. "As Lily can attest, I have never been kind, nor have I been charitable, naturally. Instead, I am a jealous woman, whose little sister was the greatest cause for jealousy of all. Lily was everything I always wanted to be, and then she was more when it was discovered that she was… was special. _Magic."_ she hissed the word.

"Why did you even take him in the first place?" Lily asked. "Why don't you start there."

Again, it took time for Petunia to answer. "Because I am your older sister, after all. I was meant to be there for you – to protect you, to guide you, to show you what to do. But you never needed me. Even before you knew you were a witch, you had that Snape boy. I never stood a chance. I begged you not to go to that school, I begged you to stay but y _ou chose to leave._ You could have stayed, and been with me, with mum and dad; But no, you had _bigger_ and _better_ things to do. A lot of good that did you." Petunia paused. She had not raised her voice, but the resentment in her tone was clear.

"The same night you died I found a little boy on my doorstep. I am not a monster, Lily, whatever you might think of me. He had your eyes, and Dumbledore said he was alive because of your sacrifice. I – I couldn't bear to leave him there, or give him away. I just – I just wanted some part of you back."

"You had it, Tuney. He is my son, and you – you treated him…" Lily couldn't finish. It was like words could not describe the anger, contempt, and disappointment she felt towards her sister at this moment.

"Not at first. At first, I treated him like my own child. At first I protected him from Vernon, who saw him as a nuisance – an embarrassment to have someone so abnormal in the house. But I didn't see a reason why he and Dudley could not grow up as brothers. It was as if your death had erased all my memories of how you were really like, and how it really was to be your sister. I was happy until… until I saw him do _it. Magic_. He made the toy animals in the nursery begin to dance, and Dudley was laughing. Suddenly, it hit me. _He was a freak, just like you._ I couldn't – I didn't want Dudley to grow up in the same shadow that I did – to be angry and jealous as I was my whole life!" Petunia finished in a whisper, like a hiss. Lily flinched.

"Is that supposed to be an excuse? Was it really so bad?" Lily asked.

"Always." She said. "You had everything I ever wanted. I'd forgotten that for a time after your death; perhaps I was just happy that I at least was alive; I at least had chosen the right path. But fate has a sense of humor, and threatened the same pain on my own child, and I couldn't let that happen. And those eyes, that were so much like yours and so much like Father's, only reminded me every day of my hatred for you. And all the while those eyes grew angry and filled with contempt, glaring at me and hating me just as much as I had hated you. I couldn't stand to look at him.

If Dudley had any chance, then Harry's magic had to be squashed out of him. If he had never received a letter to your school, then it would've meant we had succeeded. I – I might have loved him then, and things might have been different. But the fact is, I chose my son over yours. I did what I had to do." Petunia whispered without a hint of remorse, then lowered her gaze back to her husband, as if putting an end to the discussion.

The air suddenly grew cold, and where the sun was once shining brightly over Number 4 Privet Drive, it was like the light had dimmed and the warmth had dissipated. Rage reflected in Lily's eyes as she stared at her sister now. She held her wand tightly, raising it to eye-level.

Petunia quavered under her sister's gaze, shrinking back against the wall in fear.

"Lily…" James said quietly, moving towards her. His own emotions were at war now, wanting Petunia and Vernon to suffer all the things that his son had suffered at their hands – the details of which were extremely limited - but he also knew Harry didn't want that. He also knew that Lily and Harry were very alike, and though Petunia would deserve it, Lily would never be able to forgive herself if she hurt her sister irrevocably – and that was exactly what was about to happen if he didn't stop her.

"Lily, this isn't what he wanted." He tried again. It fell on deaf ears.

Lily raised her wand, and the front door burst off its hinges, flying into the staircase. The windows and lightbulbs shattered, raining glass from above. A powerful gust of wind rushed the house, tipping the furniture and nearly causing James to lose his balance.

An ear-piercing screech of fear, and Petunia was on the ground now, covering her face in terror, whimpering.

Lily brought her wand closer to Petunia, touching it to just under her chin, forcing Petunia to raise her head and look Lily straight in the eyes.

And then the wind stopped. The silence was deafening, and Lily held Petunia's gaze.

"You're right. You never have done anything worthy of Harry saving you. He is a better person than any of us, and unlike me, he has forgiven you for your cruelty – almost like he never expected you capable of love to begin with. I, on the other hand, know better. You weren't always this way, and I refuse to accept I am the reason for all _your_ failings.

 _I will never forgive you_." The malice was unmistakable in Lily's words, and magic sizzled around her like electricity. "If Voldemort comes for you, so be it. I hope you can run faster than he can fly. Somehow I doubt it."

Lily rose swiftly and strode from the house, leaving James to follow quickly after her. Neither looked back.


	34. Chapter 34

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 34: The Burden of Knowledge

 **The Morning after the Order Meeting.**

 **7:30am: Hermione**

Hermione's mind was reeling that morning after the Order meeting, rushing faster than a firebolt hit by lightning. " _Three precious and rare magical objects were used in his defeat at Hogwarts, and one of those objects, along with sand from a broken time-turner, and the veil from the Death Chamber at the Department of Mysteries, allowed him to be resurrected."_ Harry had said _… the stone and the veil … the stone…_

"Hey Hermione, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the ministry?" a voice suddenly shocked her from her thoughts, and she swung her eyes to see… Neville. She was mere feet from Hogwarts' large front gate, and it required a teacher to allow entrance.

"Oh! Neville, how perfect to see you! Would you be able to let me in the gate?" she asked, relief washing over her.

"Of course. I was just on my way from the greenhouses, and I'm planning on meeting Hannah a little later for breakfast. Would you like to join us?"

"Oh, no actually. Not today. I just have urgent business at Hogwarts and then I'll be on my way to the ministry." She responded swiftly.

"Alright then, although you must understand why I'd best confirm your identity?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Yes, certainly. Ask away."

Neville thought for a few long moments before asking, "What spell did Hermione Granger cast on me our first year when she went to help save the Philosopher's Stone?"

"Petrificus Totalus." She said, both of them laughing at the memory.

"Best 10 points I ever gained at this school." He chuckled, opening the gate. "Actually, might've been the only points I ever gained. So, what brings you to Hogwarts so early? The students are only just getting breakfast!"

Hermione frowned, not sure whether to tell him the truth or not. "Oh, Neville. I wish I could tell you, but I just can't. I'm not even sure if my theory is correct yet." She moaned as they strode through the front door and in through the grand entrance of Hogwarts. She couldn't help but stop and gaze for a moment, reminiscing in the joys of her school days – the fresh smell of parchment, studying, and discovering such incredible things about this new world of magic she never knew existed until McGonagall delivered her Hogwarts acceptance letter.

She refused to allow her train of thought to move to the darker things of this school, including the many who had lost their lives defending it, and instead started towards the third floor. "Do you think Minerva will be in her office at the moment?"

"Maybe if she hasn't left for breakfast already." They continued to chit chat a little, despite having seen each other at the Order meeting only the night before. Soon, they arrived at the stone gargoyle that blocked the entrance to the Headmistress' Office.

"Dougal." Neville said, stating the password.

"And so he was." The gargoyle replied. They bid farewell, and Hermione stepped onto the rising staircase. After a moment's hesitation, she knocked smartly and was bidden to enter.

"Why, Hermione, it's a surprise to see you so early on a weekday. Shouldn't you be at the ministry? I hear they announce the D.M.L.E. position today." Her old professor said, surprise on her tone.

"Minerva, I'm sorry to have to ask this of you, but I need to speak with Professor Dumbledore. It's urgent, and I would prefer it remain private." She said sweetly.

"Oh? Well, I don't see why not." McGonagall raised her eyebrows curiously, but thankfully didn't question Hermione further. Instead she just smiled and turned in her desk chair. "ALBUS! Wake up!" She barked, and both women couldn't help but chuckle, Hermione more abashedly than her previous professor, at the startled yelp that followed the headmistress' command.

"I'll leave you two alone, and feel free to any of my biscuits." She said, gesturing at a small cookie tin on the corner of her desk, absolutely ignoring the exasperated glares of the portraits surrounding her desk.

Hermione looked up into the bright blue eyes above her, and smiled as Dumbledore pushed his half-moon spectacles farther up his nose to look at her. "Ah, Ms. Granger, or should I say Mrs. Granger-Weasley, how lovely it is to see you."

"You as well, Professor." Hermione's voice suddenly caught, unsure how to continue. She hadn't spoken to the man, or the portrait of him anyway, since that fateful morning 17 years ago.

"It…It's been a while. How are you?" She asked, trying to clear her head in order to properly ask her question.

"Oh, quite wonderful, I thank you so much for asking. Being a portrait has many advantages, such as the ability to doze all day, eavesdrop on conversations, tour the castle at my leisure; although, I highly doubt the specifics of a painting's everyday life is the true reason you've come to visit." He remarked, eyeing her closely, the familiar twinkle in his eye making her feel like he already knew.

She took a deep breath. "You're right. I've come to confirm a theory with you, and I fear you may be the only one who can." Another deep breath. "James and Lily Potter – as in Harry's parents, not his childeren – they said they spoke with you before coming to Muriel's. They said you and Professor Snape explained to them how it was possible they returned from the dead along with Voldemort - the use of the stone and the veil being key. Is that correct?"

"It is indeed. One moment…"

"Ouch! Dammit, man, I was listening! That was completely uncalled for!"

"Do continue, my dear, Severus is now paying you his utmost attention and respect." Dumbledore twinkled again, and Snape only glowered, glaring down at Hermione menacingly.

"Do continue, you ridiculous girl, or I shall have to fall asleep again." He demanded.

"Um, of course. Sorry. Well, if that means what I think it does, then just as Voldemort was part of the connection that brought Lily and James back to life, doesn't that mean… doesn't it mean that, in death, the result would be the same? Should any one of them die, don't they all?" she trailed off, fearful of his answer.

Dumbledore only looked sadly on as she explained her theory, the twinkle now lost, and his eyes instead glistening with something else entirely. "I am afraid, dear girl, that is correct. Voldemort is the one who sent Lily and James through the veil that fateful Halloween night, the stone brought them all back together, but it is as you said: should one die, they all do. Their connection is unbreakable, their bond indestructible. It is a sad thing to speak of, as we all know what must happen in the end."

"Exactly." Snape added, his tone solemn. "They only stay here as long as he does, and vice versa. Like a corner of a three-legged stool, should one leg break, it all collapses. To destroy the Dark Lord would be to destroy them all. But to allow the Dark Lord to live…?" Snape paused, and an emotion filled his face – one completely foreign to Hermione in regards to her previous potions master: vulnerability, and despair. "That too would be a tragedy."

Hermione could only look on as he closed his eyes, as if to collect himself. Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, replaced by that stone mask.

"But why?" she began, the confirmation of this great fear presenting itself. "Isn't there some way we can stop this?" She pleaded.

"I am afraid not." Dumbledore answered, looking at her gravely. "Such is the case with such magical occurrences and the like. For example, when Potter invoked Priori Incantatem in the graveyard, and Voldemort's victims emerged, they only stayed mere seconds after the spell was broken, because they only existed alongside the spell. As well when the stone was used by Harry in the forest – when dropped, and the stone's power deactivated, its spirits did not remain, but departed.

Voldemort, the stone, and the veil are the three corners that hold Lily and James in this world; The combination of the three is incredibly unique, and I would dare say impossible to duplicate. They are the three parts of the spell. Death or destruction of one is the same as breaking the spell. I suspect Lily and James would have only minutes in this world in the case of Voldemort's death – eventually, the magic will have run its course and drag them away."

Hermione could feel her heart break for her friend; _Oh, Harry._

…

 **8:00am: Hermione**

As Hermione trudged down the lane towards the front gate of Hogwarts, passing by Neville and Hannah on their way to the castle, tears ran down her cheeks. Sometimes, intelligence was truly a curse _. What do I do now?_ She thought helplessly. _Who do I tell, if anyone?_

She apparated to the ministry, feeling the tense magic envelop her as she passed through the new security wards. New checks had been implemented in the last day, and now only those who worked at the ministry could apparate there, as it required wand identification to be able to pass through the wards. Otherwise, you ended up a mile away, with an auror training his wand on you.

Even when an employee did enter, they still had to take a truth potion to confirm their identities, as well as confirm they were not "a supporter of the dark Lord known as Voldemort." _Of course, if they were imperiused they wouldn't be able to lie nor tell the truth, so it's basically useless…_ Hermione couldn't help but think. _Now, to discover a way to identify someone under the imperius curse…?_ _ **That**_ _would be something…_

"No, I am not." She said curtly, rolling her eyes at the wizard who had offered the potion, and grunting as he handed her the antidote. This was only her first time returning to work after the attack on the ministry, yet she was already sick of it. Having finished with that, she made her way to the newly repaired lift to go to her office when she heard someone call her name.

"Hermione! 'Mione, Merlin, where have you been!?" Ron sprinted to her side, and she suddenly realized the commotion that was happening all around her. Wizards and witches were rushing to and fro, and purple airplane memos were flitting all around. There was a definite aura of panic in the air.

"What's happened?" She asked, paling as her husband pulled her into a tight hug, then crushing her lips with his own. "Ron, what's wrong!?"

"I thought – I thought you were with Kingsley this morning, to be a representative of magical creatures affairs. I didn't know where you were, 'Mione!"

"Ronald! I'm fine! I didn't go with Kingsley, I sent Donna instead! Now what's happened?" She demanded, gripping his face to try and get him to focus.

… _._

 **7:30am: Ron**

Ronald Weasley had always loved Diagon Alley – the shops, the interesting people, the pubs. It was always so full of life! At least, it usually was… except for when an evil, murdering, psychopathic dark lord was on the loose – like today. Sure, people still milled about, but just like the last time Voldemort reigned, there were few in the streets, and they all hurried to their destinations, then hurried home.

"Bloody depressing, it is. Lucky for Britain "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes" is still in business, or this place would look and feel like one big funeral parlor." George remarked, smirking as they left the apparition point behind said shop and made their way to Ollivander's. Ron only grunted in reply, rubbing his shadowed eyes and wishing it wasn't so early.

"Last night was a real riot, eh?" George asked, changing the subject to that of last night's Order meeting. "I gotta hand it to him – Harry's got a right job handling all of us. Dramatic, we are."

"Yeah, some more than others I suppose." Ron replied, only half-listening as he kept a careful watch on their surroundings. A childhood of fighting Voldemort, and nearly 20 years an auror had trained him well, and he was wary for any situation.

"Well, Mr. Cheerful, you've become solemn in your old age, haven't you? I don't think that auror nonsense is really helping your sense of humor." George tried again, nudging his younger brother as they passed the Owl Emporium.

"Well, good thing I'm an auror and not a prankster, I guess. It's not like I ever planned to do anything else, anyway." Ron sighed.

After a few moments of silence, George quipped, "Why aren't you? Why don't you, I mean? When the war ended, I offered you a job at the shop, and you turned me down, and I know why you did then, but… Why not now? When we were in school, you were always the funny one that kept ickle Harry out of his own bum and from crying into his pillow every night. You were the only one that could get Ms. Know-It-all to cheat and laugh at something other than a parchment pun. I mean, what even possessed you to be an auror, anyway?"

Ron stopped short, looking at his brother incredulously. "What the hell else was I going to be? Seven years of fighting the dark arts, I'd actually gotten pretty good at it."

"Yeah, sure, but... what about now?"

"What? Work with you, instead of be an auror? You do realize we're in a war, right?"

"Well, yeah, but we won't always be. I mean, it's got to end sometime. Maybe you could, I dunno, reconsider? Join up with me…? Those interns I've got are useless, and you've got more than enough brains to do it. You know, now that your brain finally developed, at… 34 years old." George snickered, and Ron couldn't help but laugh.

"Merlin, that would be the day…" he said, trailing off, deep in thought. "I, uh, I've actually been considering it for a while now, to be honest. Quitting it, and trying something new. I never did want to be an auror. Those years right after the war were really difficult, with so many death eaters on the loose and so much clean-up and renovation happening in the ministry." Ron rarely spoke like this, and George listened intently.

"I'm proud of what we did, though, but they were hard. After this war, when we get the bastard for the _third bloody time_ it'll be like that again! Risen Followers who escaped – radicals, terrorizing Britain in an effort to keep the movement going, even though they've already lost." Ron's eyes were faraway now as he continued.

"Hermione used to look at me when we were first married and just starting at the ministry, when I'd be gone for days at a time hunting down some death eater hideout. And her eyes… like she was afraid she'd never see me again. I don't want that. I don't want my kids to be worried I won't come home." Ron finished darkly, glaring at the ground as they walked, haunting memories resurfacing of his first years as an auror.

"So don't. The world is different, now, little brother. So much depended on you since Hogwarts, but it doesn't have to be that way this time. Give it up, Ron, and let someone else handle it for a change. If I could convince Harry to do the same, I would, but I know that'd be an absolute bust." Ron started at George's use of his name, and looked across at his older brother. A few beats passed in silence, until Ron finally broke it.

"Ok." He said.

"What?"

"I said ok. After this is all over, I'll come work with you." George split into a smile, grabbing Ron in a side-hug.

"Alright! Fred would be so proud. Our little brother doing something _actually worthwhile!_ " He grinned, and Ron smiled back, relief washing through him.

"Wait. Did you say get Harry's head out of his bum…?" George roared with laughter as they neared Ollivander's, sobering up just in time as they walked through the door.

A small bell sounded to alert Ollivander of their entrance. "Hello?" Ron called into the dusty shop, dark and shifty as always.

"Ah! Mr. and Mr. Weasley. Ash, Dragon Heart string, only 8 ½ inches, and extremely excellent at potions and charms." George nodded grinning, twirling his wand in his fingers. Ollivander's gaze then fell on Ron.

"Oh, don't tell me you need _another one!?"_

"What? No, of course not. Why would you think that?" Ron asked, bewildered.

Ollivander rolled his eyes. "1992. A hand-me-down, made of Ash, Unicorn tail hair, 12 inches and relatively flexible… until you broke it. Snapped it in half, as I recall?" Ron reddened in shame, nodding. "And so I gave you another: Willow, Unicorn tail hair from a very proud stallion, 9 ¼ inches, particularly adept at charms. And what happened to _that one Mr. Weasley?"_

Ron grimaced and seemed to shrink under Ollivander's gaze. "I- I lost it. Gottakenbysnatchers."

"What was that?"

"Got taken. By snatchers."

"Ah yes, taken by buffoons unworthy and incapable of even the simplest of spells… and so a third was given?"

"Yes sir. Chestnut, Dragon Heartstring. 9…uh… 9 ½ inches… I think?"

"9 ¾ inches! Please for the love of Merlin tell me you still have it." Ron only reddened further, swallowing thickly and removing it from his robes. Ollivander sighed dramatically in relief. George was doubled over trying to stifle his laughter, unsuccessfully.

"Well, if you're not here for the usual, what can I do for you?" the silver haired wizard asked impatiently.

"We, um. Well, we were wondering what you could tell us about a man named Henrick Ollivander." Ron replied, rolling his eyes at George and striving to be professional.

Ollivander blanched, paling (if it were possible) even more. "Excuse me?"

"Henrick Ollivander. Did you know him?"

"Well, of course. He is my great-great-nephew. I haven't seen him in years, now. Why?"

"We have reason to believe he has been involved in death eater activity. He was identified as one of the men who captured the Head of the Auror Department, Harry Potter." Ron replied.

Ollivander raised his eyebrows so high, they nearly disappeared into his silver fringe. "I see." He said. "Well, what is it you'd like to know?"

"How well did you know Henrick?"

"Well, I knew him since he was a boy. He used to work for me here at the shop, and wanted to be a wandmaker. Unfortunately, tragedy struck early on in his life, and his, ah, interests changed."

"His interests? How do you mean?" George asked.

Ollivander stared at Ron then, as if communicating something with only his eyes. "The same interests that had me abducted by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named all those years ago." Ron's eyes widened in understanding.

"The hallows." He whispered. George jumped slightly at the mention of the precious objects. "But which one exactly? Was there a specific hallow he wanted?"

Ollivander seemed surprised that George would be in on the secret, but carried on regardless. "Oh, yes. All three would do, of course, but for him it was the stone that drew his desires most heavily."

"Why the stone? Did someone die?" George responded.

"Oh, yes. His mother, my niece. Mere hours after You-Know-Who's first defeat in 1981, Matilda killed herself." The Weasley brothers gasped, trying to hide their shock.

"We are sorry for your loss, Mr. Ollivander."

"Yes, well. Matilda was a very gifted witch, though not known for her good decision making. I loved her like a daughter." He replied thickly, and Ron suddenly became very interested in a scratch on his knuckle as Ollivander dabbed daintily at his eyes.

After a moment, Ron cleared his throat. "Do you have any idea why she would do such a thing?"

"I – I really…. No. No, I've no idea, I'm afraid." Ollivander stuttered, no longer looking them in the eye.

"Are you sure…?" George asked.

"No! I've no idea, and I really don't appreciate you bringing up my dead-niece at a time like this! Leave me!" he snapped, turning his back and heading back to his beloved dusty shelves.

"Mr. Ollivander, please, we didn't mean to offend you…"

"OUT!" Ron and George hastened to the door, shocked.

"What do you think that was about?" George asked as they left.

"I've no idea, but he's definitely hiding something. I just hope it was nothing important." They walked silently down Diagon Alley, each lost in their own thoughts. Ron broke the silence.

"Hey, I think Hermione has an appointment at Gringotts today with Kingsley. It's still funny to me that they allow us back in there at all…" Ron chuckled, amazed and exasperated at the same time.

"Ah. We ought to say hello then!"

"Nah, I hate going in there. I never do if I can help it; rather avoid the goblins glaring at me like that. They never forget, the little bug-" suddenly, a loud BANG! erupted from down the street, causing the ground to tremble. Shouts and screams were heard around them. They looked forward to where the screams were concentrated: Gringotts.

"HERMIONE!" Ron bellowed, streaking towards the bank as he saw black hooded and cloaked figures enter. As Ron neared the entrance, the doors began to shut, heavy and formidable. "NOOOO!"

With a clang, the doors closed, with Ron barely too late, his fists banging on the outside desperately. "HERMIONE!"

….

 **8:00am: Harry**

Harry strode through the auror department early that morning, heading for the lifts. His face was set in a scowl, a snarl on the brink of his lips. He punched the down button, heading for the interrogation rooms kept downstairs by the court rooms.

 _He should have been told last night about the captured Risen Follower, yet they dared wait until_ _ **now**_ _to tell him!?_

"Level nine, Department of Mysteries." The cool female voice said, and Harry strode out, his fists clenched. Harry ignored the twinges in his chest as he passed by the black door at the end of the hall, and continued down the stairs, shivering as the air chilled around him. He passed the hall that led to courtroom ten, and instead thudded his knuckles against another door on the opposite hallway.

He was allowed entrance, where a portly wizard stood. There was a cloak hanger and a small desk in the room. The man had a wooden box, which he was now extending towards Harry.

"Name and purpose." He said, bored.

"Harry Potter, and I'm here to talk to the prisoner." Harry stated.

"Officially, he is not a prisoner, as he has yet to be charged, and there is yet proof to condemn him. He is only being held for questioning. He has 12 more hours before he must be released..."

"Bullshit. This man has been on my watch list since my first day as an auror. Call it whatever you want – he's guilty. My only question now is why it was so easy to catch him. Now let me in." Harry cut him off, irately.

"Wand."

"Like Hell."

"You can't interrogate with a wand, Mr. Potter. It brings up the possibility of cursing, torture, and makes any evidence gleaned inadmissible in court. I swear, how many times must I tell you? You're the bloody Auror Head, and I have to tell you every damn time!" the man cried out indignantly, like he was speaking to an insolent teenager.

Harry glared and huffed.

"I always win, Mr. Potter, you know that. Now, c'mon." he shook the box under Harry's nose, who looked like he was about to smash it. Finally, however, Harry complied, placing his Holly and Phoenix wand in the box.

"Thank you for your cooperation…"

"Oh, piss off." The man smirked.

"Y'know, I much prefer you at the pub when we get our beers on Fridays. All you aurors are right gits until you're off duty."

"Yeah, well I prefer you then, too. You're not giving me unreasonable requests at the pub, Bertie." Bertie chuckled and opened the door, admitting Harry into a connecting room. It was a small interrogation room, with two torches in the corners. Dennis Creevey was already inside, sitting across from a tall, lanky man, with mousey brown hair and acne scars. He looked almost 40, yet it still looked unlikely he could ever grow a beard, even if he wanted to.

Dennis started as Harry entered, laying his papers on the table and offering his chair to his boss. Harry nodded appreciatively, and took a seat.

"Andrew Greengrass, is it? Relation to Astoria Greengrass, now Malfoy, is that correct?" Harry asked, looking the man in the eye.

"Guilty. And you must be Harry Potter? The _Star,_ the _Champion,_ the _Hero,_ no, no, the _Savior of the Wizarding World._ That's it. The Savior, the most powerful wizard of all time. Is _that_ correct?" Andrew asked, sarcasm and disdain dripping off every word. "I am so honored by your presence. And you…" he gestured towards Dennis. "Aren't you, Mr… not Colin, he's the dead one…."

"You shut your mouth." Dennis barked. Harry raised his hand to the auror, signaling for calm.

"Mr. Greengrass, I have a couple questions that need answering. First of all, what is your motive here?"

"My motive? You mean, besides showing who is the superior members of our race?"

"I see, so torture and ransacking muggle-born's homes is your idea of a fun night out, is it?"

"Oh, I much prefer to look at it in a more... big picture sort of way... Rid the world of Mudbloods sounds so much more appealing."

Harry clenched his jaw. "So how does being caught red-handed play into that? You can't exactly accomplish your goal if you're behind bars. You were caught late last night at the home of a muggle-born and his family, admittedly the first time you were ever actually caught at the scene of a crime. So, explain why, when you _knew_ aurors were on their way and you would inevitably be caught, you stayed behind instead of fleeing to torture some other innocent? Why would you stay and _allow_ yourself to be caught?"

"Who says I allowed it?"

"Mr. Greengrass, I know without a doubt that you have been behind numerous attacks as well as inciting riots and rebellion against muggles and muggleborns since the fall of Voldemort. But you're smart, and not even court-approved evidence has ever been acquired in order to successfully convict you of these crimes. And yet you got caught last night at a random muggle-born's home, alone, with whom my aurors failed to find any connection? I can't help but think you have some ulterior motive."

Andrew raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement. "Ah, that is a fair point. Alright, I'll tell you, but first I want a little favor."

"Oh a favor, do you? How about we don't feed you to one of the last remaining dementors?"

"Dennis." Harry warned, allowing a moment for Dennis to recollect himself. "What kind of favor?" he asked Andrew.

"I hear you've got my sister hiding out at your place – got her under lock and key with the fidelius. Let her out. You can keep the brat, just let my sister step outside for only a few minutes. It's all the time I'd need. I've got some things to discuss with her." Andrew hardly had to wait before Harry responded firmly.

"No."

"No?"

"No. I will not give you that favor. Anything else you'd like to try?" The dry sarcasm was enough to make Andrew's lip curl.

"Why not?" Andrew asked petulantly.

"Because I have a moral compass. Again, any other favors you'd like to ask?" Andrew's eyes blazed, and he shook his head willfully. Harry opened his mouth to continue his questioning when he was cut off, Andrew's voice steely and hissing, leaning closer to Harry like a predator stalking his prey.

"You'll never find out where the Dark Lord is. And you'll never win this war. Do you want to know why?"

"Why is that?"

"Because he's going to command, and you're going to obey."

"How so? I've already proven I can withstand the imperius curse. I could do it when I was 14. Next?" Harry's own eyes were hard, daring Andrew to continue with his threats.

"No, not the imperius." Andrew said, leaning back with a smirk as suddenly a knock came at the door.

"Enter." Harry demanded, not taking his eyes off Andrew. Bertie walked in, holding two wands in each hand – his own, Harry's, Dennis', and Andrew's. "Bertie, what are you doing…?" Harry asked, eyeing the wands in Bertie's outstretched hands.

Though he already knew the answer.

…

 **7:45am: Neville**

"Alright, alright, I'm coming." Neville snapped. He'd just left Hermione and was making his way back to the Great Hall when sparks were seen at the front gates. Already there was someone else at the gate trying to get his attention. As he neared the gates, he recognized Hannah waiting for him.

"Dear, what are you doing here? I thought I was coming to meet you…?"

"I had to come! I have a message for Minerva. It's very important!"

"Well, alright then, love. She's at breakfast. But I have to confirm your identity, of course."

"Neville, we haven't the time! You always take forever to decide on a question!"

"Just hold on! Umm..."

"I've got one. What is it I call you when we're… you know… _alone…?"_

"That one? Really? What if someone were to overhear….?"

"Yes, that one! Now answer it, Neville."

"ok, ok! You… you call me… _Neville HotBottom_."

"Yes! That's the one, now open up and move over!"

"You know, that's not exactly how this is supposed to work, I'm supposed to confirm _your…"_

 _"_ Oh, bloody Hell, man! This is life and death here!"

"Ok, fine. Since when did you start cussing?" Neville asked as he unlocked the gates with a flick of his wand.

"When the bloody war started, dammit!" Hannah yelled behind her, already through the gates and rushing to the castle.

"Hey, wait up, love!"

…

 **Ron and Hermione**

"I thought – I thought you were with Kingsley this morning. I didn't know where you were, 'Mione!"

"Ronald! I'm fine! I didn't go with Kingsley, I sent Donna instead! Now what's happened? _"_

Ron hesitated, brows furrowed, before saying solemnly. "It's Kingsley. There was an attempted assassination this morning at that meeting with the Goblins. Diagon Alley was blasted apart, and there are loads of injuries. They told me the woman who went with Kingsley had been taken by Voldemort, and I thought – I thought…" Ron's face crumpled, and Hermione paled even more, her deep brown eyes standing out starkly against her white face.

"Oh, _Donna."_ She broke into tears, guilt shredding through her. "I sent her there, because I had something else to do. I had – I had an errand. I knew she spoke Gobeldegook, but I never would have thought…"

"Hermione, it's not your fault. It's not!" he said, taking her own face in his hands to meet her eyes. Suddenly, silence filled the atrium. Hermione looked around to see a parting in the crowd, a lone woman standing in the center, ignoring the attempts of the security wizards.

" _Donna."_ Hermione gasped. "Oh Donna!" She pulled her wand and watched her friend, knowing she may very well be cursed. Donna seemed to be unhurt, and was walking briskly towards Hermione, her dark eyes unreadable.

"Donna? Donna, dear, is everything alright?" Hermione trained her wand on her co-worker, suspicious when Donna didn't immediately respond. Then Donna opened her mouth.

…

 **8:15am: Kingsley**

Kinglsey Shacklebolt sat down at his desk with a grunt, his head resting on one hand, his eyes closed. He was exhausted. It had been quite the morning already, and the workday had barely started. He had just survived an assassination attempt, and now he had to prepare a statement for the press. Maybe he could have Percy write it up for him…?

A knock came at the door, rousing him from his daze.

…

 **Neville**

Neville and Hannah watched as Hermione rushed past him, obviously having finished whatever errand she'd been trying to accomplish earlier that morning. He chased after his wife as she ran swiftly for the great hall, entering as the majority of the school was having their breakfast. Minerva sat at the head table with the other teachers.

"Minerva! Minerva I've an urgent message for you!" Hannah shouted as she raced down the tables towards the teachers. McGonagall rose from her chair, surprised and agitated at such a disruption in front of her students.

The hall quieted immediately to watch the scene.

Hannah stopped in front of the Headmistress, with Neville right behind her. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. McGonagall stared down her former student in suspicion. The hall's silence became deafening.

…..

 **Ron and Hermione**

Donna opened her mouth, and said, "Hermione Granger-Weasley, by Order of the Dark Lord you are to surrender yourself to him. You will surrender the names of any and all mudblood and blood-traitors working in the ministry of magic. If you do not comply, this will be the first of many to come." Donna raised her wand, and in an instant, spells were shot in her direction.

"NO!" Hermione cried, watching as if it happened in slow-motion – the colored jets of light rushed towards her friend, as Donna's wand pointed to her own throat.

Too late.

Screams filled the atrium, horrified, as Donna lay on the ground, her throat slit, her blood pooling around her.

….

 **Harry**

"Bertie, what are you doing?" Dennis asked.

With a swish of a wand, the exit unlocked, and Andrew rose swiftly from his chair. He plucked his wand from Bertie's grasp, and then plucked Harry's wand. "I had to find out some way to get this wand. Our other plans don't seem to be working very well, so I came up with my own. Did you even bother to check the names of the mudbloods I tortured last night?"

He gave a meaningful look at Bertie, and Harry closed his eyes in frustration at his own stupidity. He had been so anxious to interrogate Andrew Greengrass that he didn't both to study the file properly – only jumping at the chance when one of his employees informed him of Andrew's capture at a muggleborn's home last night. Harry hadn't bothered to even check the muggleborns name, which was completely out of character for him. _How could he have been so stupid?_ Andrew laughed, holding both wands aloft as he left, leaving Harry and Dennis at wand point.

Bertie began. "I have a message for Harry Potter. By Order of the Dark Lord you will surrender yourself to him. You will disarm your aurors, and dismantle your defences. If you do not comply, this will be the first of many to come." Harry blocked Dennis from view, prepared to protect him from whatever curse would come their way. But the two remaining wands were turned instantly against Bertie's own throat, and Harry's eyes widened in comprehension.

"NO!" Harry lunged forward.

Too late.

….

 **Kingsley**

A knock came at his office door, and Kingsley looked up at who had entered. Amy Montgomery, the new intern, walked in briskly, her wand in her hand. Kingsley eyed it carefully, confused as her wand remained at her side in a completely non-threatening manner.

"Minister I have a message for you." She said.

"Oh? Did you pass it by my secretary?" He tensed and stood slowly, drawing his own wand, waiting for an attack. He could never have expected what happened next.

"By Order of the Dark Lord, you will surrender yourself to him. Today was the first assassination attempt, with many to follow until we kill you, or you kill yourself. Step down as Minister of Magic, and relinquish your title. If you do not comply, this will be the first of many to come." Suddenly, Amy raised her wand.

Kingsley shot a stunner spell.

Too late.

"PERCY!" Kingsley shouted.

….

 **Hermione and Ron**

"NO! DONNA NO!" Hermione cried out, her scream blood-curdling as an arm wrapped around her waist tightly, supporting her and tugging her away. She was immediately surrounded by aurors, their backs to her, aiming their wands outwards for her protection.

"Why? Why me? Why? Why does he care so much about me?" she babbled, straining to see who was dragging her away from the scene as screams continued to echo piercingly around them.

It was Ron, pulling her towards the lifts at the end of the atrium, his own wand out in front of them, prepared to fend off any attack as he punched the button to call the lift. "OUT!" he bellowed at the workers inside it, shoving past them as they rushed out, bringing Hermione and motioning the four other aurors with him into the elevator. He jammed repeatedly the "close doors" button, relaxing slightly as they closed, taking them to relative safety.

He didn't release her, and instead wrapped his other arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him as she sobbed into his chest.

"Because, 'Mione. You just got the job as D.M.L.E. You are the new Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, second only to the Minister himself. Not only that, but you're Hermione-bloody-Granger-Weasley, the woman who defied him through the whole last war, helped destroy his horcruxes, and have fought against everything that monster has ever stood for." She looked up at him, astonished.

 _"He's afraid of you."_ He finished, his voice trembling with his own shock at what had just happened. "As he bloody well ought to be."

….

 **Neville**

The hall was silent, watching the crazed woman stand in the midst of them. Neville moved closer to his wife, standing right beside her, close enough to hold her hand. His face betrayed more than just confusion, but caution. This was not at all normal behavior…

Then Hannah opened her mouth and spoke with a voice like iron, emotionless and monotone.

"Minerva McGonagall. By Order of the Dark Lord you will surrender yourself to him. You will fire your mudblood teachers, you will expel your mudblood students. You will open the gates of Hogwarts, and you will welcome his regime with open arms. If you do not comply, this will the first of many to come."

Screams echoed throughout the hall, none louder than that of Professor Longbottom.

….

 **A/N – oof, tough stuff, eh? Sorry to drop that one on you guys** **PLEASE READ AND REVIEW! I LOVE YOU GUYS!**

 **P/S: By the way, in case you guys are wondering why they don't just use the spell in the sixth movie, when Snape kind of sucked the blood back into Draco's unconscious body in the bathroom…? Yeah, that spell does not exist. That would be cool, but I have thus far striven to stay book accurate, not movie accurate.** **Wounds can be magically "stitched," like in the case of the sixth _book,_ and blood replenishing potions can be given, but once the blood has left the body, it's not coming back. **

**Also… did anyone catch who "Dougal" is, and why McGonagall would use that as her password? If so, 50 points to Gryffindor!**


	35. Chapter 35

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

 **And please check at the end for an important author's note!**

Chapter 35: Fall-Out

 **BREAKING NEWS!** **WHO WILL SAVE US NOW?**

 **Romilda Vane – Special Correspondent**

 **BREAKING NEWS: Not two hours ago this morning, at approximately 8am, there was yet another attack made by You-Know-Who and his Risen Followers. Minerva McGonagall (Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry), Hermione Granger-Weasley (recently promoted Head of Magical Law Enforcement), Kingsley Shacklebolt (Minister for Magic) and our very own Harry Potter (Head of the Auror Department) were targeted in a heinous display of power and demands, made by none other than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.**

 **Four members of our very own community (unidentified until further notice) were abducted and imperiused, tasked with delivering a personal message from the Dark Lord to each of the previously mentioned. Only one of the messengers survived, and remains in critical condition. The content of the messages remains unknown at this time, though witness accounts have all confirmed that each message ended with a warning: more deaths would follow if the demands were not met.**

 **The self-proclaimed hero, Harry Potter, had no comments concerning the matter; instead, this reporter has been witness to violent tirades within the auror department, consistently denying entrance to any and all news correspondents. This only begs more questions concerning Mr. Potter's well-being and state of mind. Fortunately, his colleague and ex-lover, Hermione Granger-Weasley, was willing to make a statement in his absence.**

 **"It is a terrible event that has occurred this morning – one that I will never forget. I regret to say that the war with [You-Know-Who] has already resulted in dozens of casualties, and we mourn for those whom we've lost, and extend a hand of comfort to their families. I also extend a warning to those responsible for this atrocious act – As new Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I will stop at absolutely** _ **nothing**_ **to bring you to justice, and you will pay for the crimes committed here today."**

 **It was confirmed less than an hour before the attacks that Hermione Granger-Weasley has been promoted as Head of Magical Law Enforcement – over many others who some say to be more qualified. Some may even say this is a demonstration of favoritism. Is she really worthy and capable of taking on such a role at only 33 years of age? Following Harry Potter, Mrs. Granger-Weasley will be the second-youngest Department Head in known history, which only begs the question: is she competent enough for the task at hand?** **(For more information concerning Mrs. Granger-Weasley and her career, refer to page 10 of this publication).**

 **Though we appreciate the statement made by our new head of D.M.L.E, it hardly relieves the tension caused by Mr. Potter's lack of response. It seems our once renowned "Savior of the Wizarding World" has more than just relinquished this title: he has tossed it away. Potter's movements remain "classified" to this reporter and her readers. Or perhaps secret, or even cowardly, is a better term? What is Potter doing to remedy this situation? Why does he not challenge You-Know-Who to a duel, like before? Is it a lack of courage, or perhaps concern, for the wizarding world who suffer as a result of his inaction?**

 **To you, Mr. Harry Potter, I beseech you to come out of the woodworks and fight for us like you once did – defend your right to be called "hero" and show us the meaning of sacrifice.**

"GET OUT!" was bellowed across the room as yet another reporter was thrown out of the Auror Head's office, a bang and flash of smoke following the latest intruder, who gave a very feminine squeak as his self-writing quill and notebook burst into flames.

"Shall I put 'no comment' then?" the man called as the door was slammed in his face, forcing him to jump back lest his nose be smashed. "This isn't likely to get you any positive feedback from our readers, you know!"

No reply was heard, and the man visibly slouched in disappointment.

"Oi, Janine! Get him out of here!" Dennis Creevey hollered across the room at one of his fellow aurors, his hands already full as he bodily pushed yet another reporter towards the elevators.

"Unhand me, you asinine, dim-witted –"

"SHUT IT!" Dennis growled, shoving the man the last few steps to the elevator. Janine was already on her way with the newest reporter to have snuck in, though _how_ they were managing to get past the two aurors guarding the elevators was completely beyond Dennis. Ever since the horrible incident that morning, newspersons from every possible publication had been flooding in trying to get an interview from his boss.

It had all started less than an hour after the attack. Many who had been present in the atrium were still reeling from the experience, and the rest were no less shocked. The whole department knew Bertie, as well as Donna, Amy, and of course Hannah Longbottom. Harry had kindly spoken to them shortly after the incident, and after giving quite a rousing speech filled with action words and the need to avenge those who had suffered at the hands of Voldemort, Harry had left for an emergency meeting with the other heads of departments to discuss security.

When he returned, he hadn't been in the office for more than five minutes when no less than twenty reporters had swarmed the auror department at once, and surrounded Harry without warning. Harry barely had time to react, before they were upon him like ferocious, bloodthirsty wolves as they demanded a comment. The flashing and smoke from their enchanted cameras nearly made the whole department sick, and they weren't even on the receiving end, nor at such a close range as Harry.

"MOVE! I HAVE NO COMMENT!" Harry shouted angrily, holding his hands up to try and block his eyes from the bright flashes of light. They continued to blind him, and the department seemed frozen with shock. Suddenly Dennis remembered, _he doesn't have his wand. It was taken from him by Andrew Greengrass! He is totally defenseless!_ He pushed forward, trying to help him by removing the reporters. He heard a snarled "Get out of my way!" from Harry, and those blocking Harry's path paled considerably, creating a small way through the horde. The other aurors suddenly emerged from their shocked stupor and descended on all sides, confiscating cameras and attempting to drag the reporters away from their boss. Barely managing to extricate himself from the near mob, Harry had struggled to get to his office, but had been unceremoniously floored by a tripping jinx. He growled furiously, struggling to rise as the reporters closed in, temporarily hiding him from view.

"HE'S FAINTED! THE SHOCK WAS TOO MUCH FOR HIM!" One of the reporters had shrieked, puffing away at her camera and giving lines to her quick-quotes-quill.

"I DID NOT, YOU BLOODY JINXED ME YOU –"

"ENOUGH!" suddenly reverberated around the department, obviously by someone whose voice had been magically magnified, and suddenly an incredible shock-wave rocked the department, causing auror and reporter alike to fall to the ground. "HARRY POTTER HAS NO COMMENT, AND YOU WILL LEAVE IMMEDIETELY! THIS IS NOT A PRESS CONFERENCE, THIS IS A WORKING OFFICE, AND YOU HAVE NOW ALL BEEN DENIED ENTRANCE! LEAVE NOW, OR YOU WILL BE REMOVED BY FORCE!" Ron Weasley remained the only one standing, his wand out and an expression on his face worthy to kill should anyone dare to look him in the eye. The reporters froze, looking at Ron as if he had gone mad, the hypocrisy of their own actions going right over their heads. Harry basically dove for his office door, shutting it firmly as the members of his department began escorting the reporters out, each crying in outrage when their notes were abruptly burned by a touch of the aurors wands.

As the elevator doors opened and the journalists filed inside, Dennis had foolishly thought that would be the last of it. He was ever so wrong. With the printing of the article by Rita Skeeter only an hour later, a second horde returned to the department, rushing to Harry's office door where he remained ensconced. Once again, Ron called upon all aurors not on field duty to help in the reporter's removal, shepherding them back towards the elevators.

And that was when the howlers had come.

A dozen blood-red envelopes came in that first round, flying through the air like the purple airplanes used for memos. They stopped at Harry's office door and began tapping impatiently. Recognizing the sound of memos, and no longer hearing the commotion of reporters, Harry opened the door and was assaulted with no less than twelve smoking howlers about to burst.

Harry's wide-eyed, stricken expression as he stood in the doorway was enough to cause pity in everyone present. Then, everyone was forced to cover their ears as the letters all exploded at once, screaming in a myriad of angry tirades, rants, and heinous diatribes filled with menace. The utter abuse heaped on poor Harry's ears from dissatisfied members of the wizarding community was like something none of them had ever heard before.

Finally, after the last letter burst into flames and fell to the ground in ashes, the shocked witches and wizards lowered their hands from their ears, stunned into silence as they continued to stare at their boss.

"Right." He said, sighing deeply. "I seriously doubt that will be the last of them. Please forgive the distraction they will cause, and try to continue working through it. Meanwhile, I would like the elevators doors to be guarded from now on to block any more bloody reporters in here, as they at least can be prevented. The howlers will be an inevitable nuisance for a couple days at least."

"If anyone needs me," Harry continued, "I will be in my office. I've meetings to plan for the families of those who died today." Harry then followed up on previously made assignments to direct them in the best possible track to discover who exactly had been behind the attacks. He was hoping he wouldn't be completely ignorant by the time he met with the families in turn, and be able to provide at least a little insight as to who was responsible for their loved one's death.

The rest of the day would normally have been spent out of the office tracking down leads as to who might have cursed Hannah, Donna, Bertie, and Amy, however he, Ron, and five others had been forced to stay behind to stop the incessant reporters, and to try and provide support for Harry as more howlers flew in by the hour.

Dennis shoved the latest reporter through the doors, and sighed as another round of howlers flew in the office. One shared look at Ron, and he knew that he too was just as ready for this day to be over.

…

Harry groaned heavily as he splashed water on his face in the loo, rubbing his eyes deeply until the darkness gave way to stars and bursts of color behind his eyelids. In all his years as an auror, this easily had to make the top five of worst days ever. Possibly _the_ worst day ever as an auror, though it was hard to properly compare. The only others that could even come close in comparison had occurred during that first year after the end of the war, when many of Voldemort's followers were still at large, and had had nothing to lose as they attacked mercilessly and strove to hunt down any and all survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts.

He sighed deeply, peeking his head out of the door to check if the coast was clear. Thankfully, no howlers, nor reporters were in sight, and it was finally time for him to go home for the day. He had stayed several hours later than expected, as had Ron and Hermione, and the majority of their departments. But now Harry was exhausted, and nothing more could be achieved for today, so he ordered everyone go home and get some rest. The department was now empty, he being the last to finally leave.

He walked across the auror department aisles, arriving at the apparition point just as he saw a woman poke her head up from behind one of the desks. She held a camera, and quickly began puffing away as Harry rolled his eyes, and disappeared on the spot.

Molly greeted him at the doorway, her face pale and holding a daily prophet in her hand, with that blasted article taking up the front page. Ron and Hermione had already arrived, and Harry pushed past Molly, more than willing to let Ron and Hermione to fill the family in. Ignoring Molly's protests that he have something to eat, he walked wearily upstairs. It seemed the children had all been sent to bed, and he stopped in to see each one and kiss them good night.

Only James remained awake at this late hour, reading his first year Defense Against the Dark Arts text book by lamplight. Albus and Fred slept soundly in the other two beds in the room, and neither of them stirred as Harry pulled the blankets higher up Albus' shoulders.

"Dad? Is everything okay?" James whispered, trying not to wake his brother and cousin, noting his father's somber expression and world-weary appearance. Harry leaned heavily on the wall next to James' bed, and tried to smile reassuringly. But Harry knew it was useless. James wouldn't be fooled. Neither would Albus either and Harry was glad only one of his sons remained awake. He was doubly thankful it was James, because even though James would detect his father lying to him, he would at least accept the answer given in hopes of making his father feel better. Albus, on the other hand, always demanded the truth, and would accept nothing less even if Harry didn't want to tell it. It made Harry extremely nervous when he thought about eventually telling them his stories from the last war.

So, with a defeated sigh, Harry answered quietly, "No, Jamie, it's not. But it will be, I promise." James looked at his dad, unsure how to answer. All he knew was that it was obvious something terrible had occurred today, and his dad was in pain because of it.

"I'm sorry, dad. I wish I could help." He finally answered. Harry shook himself, and smiled sadly at his firstborn. Harry leaned forward and ran his fingers through James' hair, kissing him lightly on top of the forehead.

"Thanks, Jamie. Just keep reading that book, eh?" He said, his tone a tad more cheerful now. James felt a comforting squeeze on his shoulder, and watched as his dad walked out. "Not too late, though, alright?" Harry said, and he closed the door behind him with a soft click.

Last stop before Harry's own room was Teddy. Though no longer considered a child requiring a bedtime, he was pleased to find him already in bed, reading a book just like James had been. Harry knocked on the open door lightly, alerting Teddy to his presence.

"What're you reading?" Harry asked, leaning lightly against the doorframe. Teddy turned the book over to show Harry the cover – _The Study of Obliviation._

"If I'm ever allowed to finish my seventh year, I've got to be ready, right?"

"To be an Obliviator? Does this mean you've decided, then?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I think so. I know that mum was an auror, and obviously being a metamorphmagus has its qualities when it comes to auror work, but it doesn't interest me quite as much. The mind, and memories on the other hand? It's pretty cool." Teddy finished, his hair flashing to bright pink for a moment before returning to its normal turquoise.

"Well, I'm proud of you. Whatever you decide to do, you know I'll support you. I might even be able to get you a foot in the door with a mate of mine in the Obliviation department, if you'd like? Have you been keeping up with your studies and the homework Neville has been sending you?"

"Yes, Harry, of course. Of all your children, I'm the least likely to slack off in the homework department…"

"yeah… James isn't the most disciplined, is he?" Harry chuckled, rolling his eyes affectionately. "Alright then, I'll leave you to it."

"Wait, Harry. I actually, um… I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Sure. What about?" Harry's fatherly instincts squirmed when Teddy seemed to hesitate, breaking eye contact and becoming very focused on a thread on his blanket. Harry allowed a few moments of silence, giving time for Teddy to gather his thoughts.

"Well, actually, never mind. It's stupid. Especially considering everything that happening right now, with Voldemort and the attacks I read about in the paper…"

"No, no Teddy, it's not. Voldemort isn't the only thing that matters in this family, and…" Harr sighed and moved forward to sit at the edge of the bed. "I know I've been really busy lately and I haven't had a chance to really see you or the other kids. I'm sorry about that. Please, what did you want to talk about?" Harry entreated of his godson. Teddy looked his godfather in the eye, appreciation apparent in his gaze. Taking a deep breath, replied.

"Ok. Well, um, what did… I mean, how did Molly and Arthur react when you first started dating Ginny?" Harry eyebrows shot up. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't this.

"Er, I dunno. I admit I didn't exactly ask their permission. Come to think of it, I probably should have, actually… erm, wow, now that you've brought it up, I've no idea what they first thought about it…" Harry said, noticing that he was rambling slightly, taken by surprise by the seemingly random subject.

"Did you, erm, is there someone… a girl, maybe?" Harry stammered. Teddy blushed, and his hair suddenly became deep red to match his face.

"Well, yea, there kind of is. Only I haven't asked her out yet, but I… that is, we hang out a lot, but I wouldn't say we've been on an official date, _per se…"_

"And why haven't you?" Harry asked.

"Well, it's complicated. She's really amazing, but she's been my friend since… well, a really long time –"

"Wait, she's one of your mates? Do I know her? Have you told me about her?"

"No."

"No, she's not one of your mates, or no I don't know her?"

"No, you don't know her. She's a stranger, absolutely… I don't think you would even recognize her, actually." Teddy said quickly, his hair now turning a deep magenta. Harry noticed the color change, his eyes tightening in suspicion. That was the color for when he was lying…

"Oookay…." Harry said. More silence.

"You and Ginny were friends before you started dating, right? And it seems Molly and Arthur were okay with it, considering they didn't send you a howler or anything. Right?"

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"So, you loved each other. It didn't ruin your friendship, or make it awkward?"

"No, of course not. It made it much better, actually. Our friendship became deeper, erm… more meaningful I guess." Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. Then he smiled cheekily. "Well, to be fair, it was a little awkward because of Ron, but he got over it. And then after dating my sixth year, I broke up with her to protect her from Voldemort, and she was pretty peeved about it. Well, actually Ron seemed more upset than anyone. He took our break-up pretty hard." They laughed, and then the note of seriousness returned.

"But, like you said, we loved each other. After the war, we got back together. So, if you're worried about it hurting your friendship with her, don't be. Because if you really care about her, then it will be worth it to try." Harry finished, squeezing Teddy's shoulder.

Harry watched as Teddy's hair seemed to lighten again back to his turquoise. "Thanks, Harry." He said. "And, if she says yes and we start going together, you don't think her parents would be angry, do you?"

"Why would they be angry? They ought to be proud their daughter landed a Lupin! And, if you're worried about the whole werewolf bit –"

"No! Actually, I don't think they would care about that, _specifically…"_

"Good. That's good. So, who are her parents?"

"No one."

"No one?"

"No one you know."

"Hm, I find that a bit surprising."

"Really Harry? You don't actually know everyone, you know." Teddy replied a bit sarcastically.

"Well, maybe I've heard their names. I meet a lot of people being in the ministry…"

"They're muggles. Probably. I mean, um, she's foreign. Yeah, super foreign." Harry could only stare in amusement as Teddy's hair once again turned to Magenta, clashing horribly with his bright red face.

"…. Ooookay." Harry repeated.

"Well…?"

"Well, what?"

"Her parents! Do you think they would be upset?"

"Oh, right. Her parents who are possibly muggles, but definitely foreign?"

"….. yes."

"Well, here's what I would do. If you really want to make an impression, you could always write them a letter and ask permission, though admittedly it's a bit old-fashioned. Although, as a father and only now just realizing my daughter is going to be dating, I think that may be a good idea. Also, it may end up in your castration…. Okay, new plan." Harry realized he was once again rambling. Merlin, this was almost as bad as when he had to give his first talk to Teddy regarding the birds and the bees. _Poor Teddy. Being the eldest, he gets all my first trial mistakes. James is lucky, and Albus will be even luckier. Hopefully I'll have more of a handle on these things by then…_ Harry thought.

Rubbing his chin, he continued. "Alright, maybe just ask her out. Try actually going on a date with her. If she says yes, and it starts to become serious, _then_ write her parents. Together. He might be kinder to you if his daughter has a bit of a say in it."

Teddy had become very pale, and his hair became gray and peppered as if he had suddenly aged three decades.

"C'mon Ted. If they really are foreign like you say they are, what can they do? Proximity isn't exactly an issue in this case, so you needn't be so strung out about it." Harry said chuckling, extremely amused and a bit confused at Teddy's reluctance. He was amazed as well. When Harry was in school, he was definitely more afraid of the girl and never even spared a thought for the parents! Teddy seemed to have the opposite problem, here.

Teddy nodded, and he tried to smile, though it came out as more of a grimace. "Thanks, Harry. I'll, uh… I'll keep that in mind…" he stuttered, gulping audibly. Harry bid his Godson goodnight, and closed the door behind him. He grinned again, stifling his laughter as he walked up the stairs to the landing, then down the hall to his own bedroom.

Ginny was already waiting for him. She had dressed in her pajamas and, like James and Teddy, was sitting up reading a book. It seemed to be a family trait. Her concerned expression turned to amusement at the look on Harry's face as he continued to recall the conversation with his godson.

"Ginny, Teddy's got a girl! He really likes her, and he's thinking of asking her out. He wanted my advice!" he said happily. "Another milestone for our little Ted. He is growing up way too fast. Oh Merlin, when do you think James is going to start to notice girls?" Harry's face suddenly paled at the thought. He shook his head and refocused on Ginny. "Who do you think the girl is?" he asked conspiratorially.

Ginny burst out laughing, trying like Harry to stifle it behind her hand. "Oh, Harry, are you really so unobservant?" She giggled.

"What do you mean?"

"Harry, she's – oh Merlin, it's -" she giggled again, trying to compose herself to form the sentence. "Victoire, of course!" she finally said, breathlessly. At Harry's bewildered expression, she burst out in another round of giggles.

"You really think so? Oh no, I can see why he's suddenly so concerned about her parent's reaction! Bill is going to murder him – he'll curse him from here to high country!" Harry too broke out in laughter, leaping onto the bed next to Ginny. "Lord, if he survives it, he'll be one lucky man." Ginny stopped laughing long enough to kiss him, and both sat back, reminiscing in their early days back at Hogwarts.

After a moment, Harry's face clouded over, as suddenly, his temporary relief seemed to dissipate as he remembered the terrible events of the day. All the amusement left his face, and he frowned.

Ginny noticed his change in attitude and was quick to guess the reason. She scooted closer, grasping his hand and pulling him in for another kiss, this one longer and more heartfelt. The stress of the day seemed to melt at her touch, and he held her close in a tight embrace, before finally releasing her and collapsing on the bed. It suddenly seemed incredible they had been laughing only moments before.

"I visited Hannah, and she told me everything she remembers. It was incredibly lucky that Neville noticed something seemed off, and had been standing so close. As it is, she lost a lot of blood, and will probably have a scar, _but…"_ Ginny said, consolingly, "She's going to be alright, Harry."

"Good. That's good." Harry responded quietly. He huffed, and rose to his feet. "They're calling for my resignation if I don't go out and duel Voldemort one-on-one." He said in a clipped tone, changing into his own pajamas, and rubbed his face tiredly as he recounted the events of the day, especially about the howlers.

"Yeah, I read the article. Well, they're cowards and fools. They've no idea what they are talking about." Ginny said when he was finished, holding his hand as they lay facing each other in the bed.

"No, they just care about their families, and are afraid for their lives. It's not cowardly to be afraid."

"Only when it means your fear stops you from acting, and you put others in a wand's path instead of yourself, which is exactly what they're asking for. That is cowardly in my book, and you shouldn't feel guilty."

"Well, I do." Harry said shortly. Grimacing at his tone of voice, he said more quietly, "I lost my wand today. I'm no longer the Elder Wand's master. I have to wind back its allegiance."

Ginny was silent. Harry had been the Master of the Hallows for 17 years now. He had been so careful! And he had never wielded them, but had elected to leave them where they lie – the stone in the forest, the wand with Dumbledore. He hadn't even planned on keeping the cloak, but was going to eventually give it to James.

Throughout all those early years as an auror, when there were still so many death eaters and radical factions against the ministry, despite the constant danger of his job, he had never once spoken of retrieving the hallows. He had trusted himself and those around him to be capable.

 _But, none of those death eaters were Lord Voldemort_ , she reasoned with herself.

Harry dropped his gaze, a look of dejection on his face. She realized she had been silent for too long. She opened her mouth to speak, to say anything of comfort, but he spoke first.

"I dunno, Gin. Those deaths today were needless, and I've no doubt he will follow up on his threat of killing more people if I don't answer his demands." His tone became more and more desperate as he spoke.

He rose from the bed and went to his locked briefcase, pulling it out from under the bed. Ginny quickly retrieved her wand from the end table and handed it to him to use. He unlocked the briefcase, removing the stone and the wand. He pulled out the cloak from where he had hidden it among his folded robes in the dresser.

He held all three in his hands, a strange feeling of power, and yet vulnerability seized him.

"Should I destroy them?"

"No, Harry. At least not yet." She said, kneeling in front of him and reaching a hand out to caress his face. "Not yet." She repeated.

"Why not?"

Ginny swallowed hard, trying to arrange her thoughts. "Because, you may yet regain your wand's allegiance, and become Master of Death once more. You're not God, but you may need them still if you wish to destroy Voldemort."

"I never wanted to be! I've never wanted this power!"

"I know! I know, but you may still need it! Just wait, that's all I ask." She pleaded. She knew it was selfish of her. If anyone else should somehow gain the other hallows, then they would be the Master. And if that person were Voldemort? He'd already proven he was more than willing to kill his followers to get what he wanted, just as he killed Snape, thinking it would gain the Elder Wand's allegiance.

His eyes lifted to meet hers, and she continued. "Just keep them safely hidden here. You can't even duel Voldemort anyway, unless we find out where he's holed up in, and to call him out into the open would only ask for even more collateral fatalities, especially if…" Ginny gasped, ashamed of what she was about to say.

Harry's eyes darkened. "Especially if I lose, you mean. Yeah, you're right. It would mean giving the Hallows to Voldemort. Nothing could be more dangerous." Ginny nodded solemnly, her eyes glassy and worried. Harry seemed to contemplate for a moment before standing.

He refolded the cloak and returned it to its hiding place in the drawer. Then, he removed the brass handle to one of the dresser drawers and held it up in the palm of his hand. He closed his eyes and whispered an incantation under his breath with the Elder wand, and Ginny watched as the handle twisted and writhed, turning orange and then white hot as it was lifted into the air by the spell and transformed. After nearly a minute, a thin chain laid in Harry's palm, with a round locket hanging off the end in the pattern of the drawer handle.

Harry opened the locket and placed the small, black stone inside it. He clicked the locket shut and whispered another reinforcing spell on it.

"Here. Now that I have the wand on me at all times, it's even more important that the others remain hidden in case anything happens to me. With the newfound ability the stone and the veil have to resurrect others from the dead, it's even more important that it remains with someone I trust."

"Here." She said, taking the offered necklace, and thereby the resurrection stone, in her hand and reaching for her own wand. She performed an intricate binding spell, and watched with satisfaction as the locket glowed blue for a few moments. "Now my hand and yours are the only ones who can open it." She said, and slipped it over her head, feeling its light but distinctive weight against her heart.

Harry smiled, and he reached forward to cup her face in his hands, drawing close for a deep kiss full of affection.

"I love you, you know that right?" He said, taking her hand and leading her to bed.

"Yes, I know." They lay close together, and with a wave of her wand the lights diminished leaving them in darkness. Harry sighed contentedly as he allowed his exhaustion to take him, drifting off to sleep.

On the other side of the door, however, unbeknownst to Harry and Ginny, Astoria Malfoy crouched, the extendable ear clasped firmly in her hand. Her mind was reeling, and plans were beginning to form as she deftly rose from her position, and silently crept back to her own room.

 **A/N – I just want to again thank everyone for all your support! Recently, a few flaws have been brought to my attention regarding some story structure and explanations that were not so well explained. My apologies because you are so right! Originally as I was writing this story, I admit I had another end in mind, but it has since turned out slightly different, and I have needed to go back and rewrite a couple things. SO, if the whole Sands of Time, Veil, and Stone connection is something that is bothering you, or if you missed how exactly Voldemort got his body back, whole and complete, you may go back and reread chapters 7 and 8, and technically the beginning of 10 if you'd like. You may notice significant changes that may ease your soul.**

 **Also, concerning why others are not allowed to be resurrected, I just feel like Harry as well as the Weasleys all realize that James and Lily returning was an accident. It was a by-product of a dark ritual that Ollivander did NOT see coming, and only the connection btw Voldemort, the Stone, and Harry's parents are what allowed it to happen in the first place. I mean, honestly the Resurrection Stone is totally cursed, you know? According to the Tale of the Three Brothers, it was given to the second brother as a trick, because Death knew that the second brother wouldn't be able to handle it and would end up killing himself. It was cruel. So as you can see, whenever the Stone is used, usually it comes with a hefty price. In this case, the price was explained by Dumbledore and Snape to Hermione in chapter 34.**

 **I'm sorry. I did not explain that well:/**

 **But honestly if you don't re-read it, you'll be fine. The end will still make sense for ya and it shouldn't matter. But, again, if it bothers you, I invite you to reread those chapters** **THANK YOU for your constructive criticism, and most especially your wonderful compliments and motivation that you have given me!**

 **Ta! - Fresnofan**


	36. Chapter 36

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

 **Another somewhat fluffy chapter before we get back into the action!**

Chapter 36: Mending Fences

Harry grabbed a scone from the table, taking a bite as he poured a glass of pumpkin juice, not bothering to sit down. He was in a hurry to get back to the auror department, as usual.

"Oh, just take a seat, Harry! You can afford a couple minutes to properly eat your breakfast." Molly scolded lightly. Harry swallowed deeply, about to reply when Ron and Hermione entered the room.

"Actually, he can't, and neither can we. After what happened yesterday, we'll be lucky if we make it to the office before the reporters." Hermione said as Ron grabbed his own scone, refusing a seat as well. Hermione began packing small lunches for the two of them as Ron wrapped a second scone in a napkin for her to eat at the office.

"Could you add a little jam to mine, dear? Thank you much!" Hermione called lightly from the kitchen. Ron nodded absentmindedly and did as she asked.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Molly huffed, exasperated. Harry chuckled as Ginny gave him a peck on the cheek while handing him his own packed lunch, and he put on his cloak.

Two more people entered the room then, and one of them cleared their throat softly, asking for attention. Harry turned to see his parents standing in the doorway. They looked terrible, like they hadn't slept at all, and Lily's eyes were especially red-rimmed like she had been crying.

"Harry, could we have a quick word?" James asked, albeit apprehensively, seeing as Harry was obviously in a rush.

"Um, sure. Is - is everything alright?" Harry asked awkwardly, immediately concerned. Comprehension dawned on him suddenly as he realized what they probably wanted to talk about. They had gone to see the Dursleys yesterday, but as he had gotten home so late he had been unable to talk to them and see how it went. Ginny had only told him that Dudley had accepted protection from Hestia for himself and his wife and daughter, to Harry's great amazement, but Petunia and Vernon had not.

James motioned for them to go into the sitting room, and it seemed both were too nervous to take a seat, so Harry joined them standing, creating a tight-knit trio. More awkward silence followed, and Harry watched as his parent's expressions revealed the battle that was going on with their emotions. He waited patiently though. Work could wait, in this case.

"Harry, we're so sorry." Lily suddenly blurted out, and fresh tears slid down her cheeks. She didn't seem able to look him in the eye.

"What – why? What are you sorry for?" Harry asked, baffled. Neither seemed to want to respond. "Is it – was it the Dursleys?" Harry finally whispered. Lily could only nod her head half-heartedly, as if there was more to the story.

"We utterly failed you, son. It was bad enough that you were left without us, without your parents to raise you. But to be sent to _them?_ To those people, who refused protection by the way, because of their ridiculous pride and bigotry –"James' voice rose in volume with each word.

"Stop. What are you talking about? You can't seriously be feeling guilty for – for dying? It's not as if you had a choice, and you never meant for me to go and live with _them_ , anyway."

"But –" Lily began.

"No. Absolutely not. You were betrayed by your best friend, and even if Sirius hadn't gotten himself thrown into Azkaban, Dumbledore would have insisted on me being sent there anyway. Petunia may have been a – a vindictive - I mean, not exactly what one would have preferred… But her blood, _your_ blood," Harry stammered, looking at his mother pointedly, "that ran through _her_ veins kept me safe from Voldemort until I was 17. So, I can at least thank her for that."

Lily snorted sardonically, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Harry quickly produced a handkerchief with a flick of his wand, handing it to her gingerly.

"The only one to blame is _him –_ Voldemort. Ours wasn't the only family that he destroyed, and we're not the only ones whose lives were shattered at his hand." Harry sighed heavily through his nose, his hate for the man making itself very apparent.

"But we seem to be the only family getting a chance to be put back together." Lily whispered, continuing to wipe her eyes in the silence that followed.

Harry gulped, suddenly at a loss for words, but knowing something needed to be said. "Look, I… I know we haven't exactly had much time to – to spend together, or to talk. It's my fault, I…" Silence again engulfed them, none of them looking another in the eye. Lily finally got her tears under control, and stared at her son.

He was standing across from her, not meeting her eye. She was once again hit with how remarkably similar he looked to James. Except Harry's eyes – and not in the way that everyone else usually said. She knew many said he had her eyes; the bright green, and the fact that they were the same shade and shape as her own. But what she saw was beyond that, and in actuality they were nothing at all like hers. They were too old; too careworn.

She'd heard once that the eyes are the window to the soul. If that were truly the case, Harry had a soul that was very old indeed. She didn't need Molly's stories, or Ginny's explanations, or Harry's own memories that she had seen that first night to know that he had experienced a lot of sorrow, and a lot of pain in his young life.

No, Harry's eyes didn't look like hers at all, and it made her sadder than she ever thought possible. One's eyes told a story, and anyone could see that his was a long, and difficult story to tell.

"I love you, Harry." She suddenly whispered, breaking the silence and her own troubled thoughts. Harry started, and raised his head to meet her gaze. "I love you with all my heart." She reached forward and pulled him down into a tight embrace. He didn't respond at first, as if he had been taken by surprise. But after a moment he hugged her back, and when she finally broke it off, it was with reluctance on both their parts. Her hands came down and grasped his own, and she didn't break eye contact. He gazed into her eyes, as if drinking in her every feature. It was like he was seeing into her own soul as she saw into his – a pure and innocent yearning to know the truth behind the words.

"When you were born, I remember holding you in my arms for the first time and thinking that if God existed, he must be someone with an unimaginable amount of love in his heart. That could be the only explanation as to how I was so fortunate to be given such a gift." She reached forward, cupping Harry's face in her hand, grateful when he seemed to lean into it. "Even then, I knew you were going to grow up to look just like your dad." She chuckled.

Harry let out a breath of quiet laughter, almost indiscernible unless one listened closely. And then James spoke up, a smile lighting his lips, and Harry's gaze switched to his father.

"But I knew from the moment you were born that you would be more like your mother; her heart, her compassion. Or at least I hoped. I didn't think I could ever be happier than at that moment." James reached forward and grasped his son's shoulder firmly while his other arm wrapped around Lily's shoulders, his smile making its full appearance now.

Harry's own smile was slowly coming, before faltering. "Why are you telling me this?" He asked, seeming to marvel at their words. "I mean, why now, this second?"

"Because we never got to tell you before. I mean, not when you could have remembered it, anyway." James replied quietly.

"And because you deserved to have heard it every single day. We will forever be indebted to the Weasleys for being to you what we couldn't be. They were and are your family, and they share no blood with you whatsoever. I wish that blood could have been enough for Petunia." Lily finished.

A look of wonder crossed Harry's face then. "I love you too, mum, dad."

...

Later that morning Harry would lightly recount what had just occurred as he, Ron, and Hermione walked the short distance to the apparition point. He had hugged his mum and dad, and this time there was no sense of desperation or shock like the first time they had been reunited in that same room only a few days prior. This time, it was different, and it was like relief had flooded his lungs and a burden had lifted off his shoulders.

He grinned as he walked with his best mates, striving to describe this feeling of elation that had come over him. "I mean, yeah, my parents have been dead for the past 32 years, but they're here now! They're actually here – not as ghosts, or dreams, or as wishes from the Mirror of Erised that don't actually exist." Ron snorted, and Harry eagerly continued. "I mean, when we win this war, I will literally have the rest of my life to get to spend with them, and they're not going to disappear, or – or leave, or decide they don't want me, or, I dunno! There's nothing to stop us from being happy, and I've been so – so…"

"Like a fretful girl who didn't know how to confront her feelings?" Ron asked, his own grin splitting his face spectacularly.

"Well, okay, that was not the exact wording I was going for, but in a manner of speaking." Harry conceded, laughing.

"Harry, you didn't really think your parents were going to leave you, did you?" Hermione asked quietly. She had yet to smile much during Harry's passionate efforts at an explanation.

"Well, no, of course not. I just… I…" Harry's grin faltered slightly.

"We get it, Harry. Sometimes there's just not words for it, but we get it. We're happy for you mate! And maybe this means you can actually make a little progress and the rest of us can finally relax! The tension between the three of you was just painful." Ron laughed, slapping Harry good-naturedly on the back. Harry grinned widely again, and turned on the spot.

Hermione watched hopelessly as Harry, and then Ron disapparated for the ministry. Tears threatened to fall, and she sniffed them back in frustration. The conversation between herself, Dumbledore, and Snape echoed in her mind like a broken record, her heart breaking at every repeat.

 _Oh, Harry._ She thought helplessly, and then she too disapparated.

…

"THIS IS NOT THE WAND!" Voldemort thundered, slashing his wand at Andrew Greengrass. He fell to the floor at his master's feet, screaming in pain and terror as the cruciatus curse rattled him to the bone. The circle of his followers surrounded their comrade, visibly grimacing at his situation.

Voldemort lifted the curse finally, leaving Andrew to moan on the ground, unable to move. Voldemort was getting impatient. Actually, impatience barely covered it, and as he looked at his small band of worthless followers, he could only roll his eyes and sigh in exasperation.

He never thought he would actually _miss_ anyone, as he didn't consider himself much of a caring man, but he _missed_ his former death eaters. Bellatrix, with her manic lust for torture and mayhem, and Lucius, with his talent for infiltration and bribery, gaining power through craft and corruption that left all others to scavenge for scraps. Even Snape, if it weren't for his treachery, would have been incredibly welcome at this table, as he had always been the most intelligent of his Death Eaters. His plans were flawless, and his silver tongue one of envy among his ranks.

As it was, Voldemort was now left with seemingly useless _children_ , ignorant and lacking in experience. Loyalty he had, yes, as he looked at newcomers like Furor Grey and Andrew Greengrass. Goyle, Parkinson, Nott, Avery, Carrow, Bulstrode, Zabini, Mulciber, and a few others he would have expected nothing less than absolute loyalty due to their familial connections, as well as being former death eaters themselves, but what of their _intelligence?_ Besides Ollivander, there was a detrimental lack of it.

As a result, he felt like he was losing. Oh, he had the wizarding world cowering in fear, and yes, he had many plans that were about to be enacted, so in reality he had more victories than losses. Still, Potter, and his band of aurors, were capturing more and more of his followers every day. Granger, that worthless mudblood, has only been DMLE for _one day,_ and yet she nearly had the whole of the wizarding community supporting her, despite the recent deaths and threats.

And he only had himself to blame, he supposed. Their defeat of him 17 years ago is what had given them their fame and fortune, and once again the people looked to _the Golden Trio_ to save them. Oh, there were many who were angry, and the Daily Prophet was publishing plenty of negative articles, but what was a few hundred angry citizens against thousands of strong-willed and loyal supporters?

"I am sorry, my Lord, so sorry." Andrew finally rasped, returning to his knees and prostrating himself before his master.

"And what of the demands? Still no result?" Voldemort asked. Andrew once again paled, his eyes widening in more fear.

"They – they have all refused to obey your demands." he said hesitantly, visibly trembling. His screams erupted once more as Voldemort lost his temper.

"It was _you_ who wanted so badly to enact such a plan, Greengrass! It was _you_ who begged me for permission, who pleaded and cried like a despicable mutt to allow you to do this. You swore to me it would be successful, that they would accept the demands, and that you would manage to steal me Potter's wand!"

"But, but it is! It is his wand my Lord!"

"IT IS THE WRONG ONE, YOU INSOLENT FOOL!" Andrew began to sob, crawling forwards on his hands and knees and grasping Voldemort's cloak. He began to kiss it, begging for mercy. Voldemort kicked him off, disgusted.

"And yet, I expected as much. I knew you would fail, Greengrass. When dealing with fools who value bravery above all, it takes multiple lessons until they finally learn." Andrew raised his eyes, astonished.

"You – you knew?" he whispered.

"Of course I knew. They are a worthless pack of Gryffindors, all of whom were among the Order of the Phoenix 17 years ago. Potter, Granger, McGonagall, Shacklebolt; they have grown proud and arrogant in their victories, and so will require a heavy hand. So, what do my Risen Followers suggest we do? Are there any among you with an _ounce_ of ingenuity?" he asked smoothly. The room remained silent for a long while.

"What of the dementors?" Goyle asked.

"They are all but extinct, and the few remaining would be too easily opposed." Voldemort responded, an air of boredom about him.

"The werewolves?" asked Pansy.

"Yes, Grey, what of the werewolves? That was your mission, was it not?"

"Aye, they've erm, well there are much fewer than there were back in the last war. And those that are left have become almost like equal citizens thanks to that mudblood Granger, so they haven't been too keen to join up. But we've got a small band who would be willing to join for the right price if so requested…" Furor trailed off, noting Voldemort's disappointment.

"What about more attacks? We've got a dozen men already tasked with destroying the London train station, which will kill muggles and wizards alike –" Goyle cut off as Voldemort let out an incensed growl, pointing his wand at those in the room as if testing them to see if they would flinch.

"Petty. Childish. You are all so absolutely infantile!" he roared, slashing his wand once more, driving those gathered to the ground. "There is still too great a support standing behind the Order. Despite the little complaints made by the Daily Prophet against Potter, the wizarding community still stands behind him as a general rule. They still believe he in invincible, as are his compatriots. They still believe him to be wholly faultless, flawless, and honorable. They still believe him to be their savior, and so the more we terrorize, the more they will stand behind him, and the courage and stupidity will only increase against us." He said delicately. "So, what shall we do about it?"

Voldemort opened his arms wide in invitation. Ollivander stepped forward, without a hint of fear or hesitation. "My Lord, I believe it is time they lose faith in their Savior. Physically, he remains untouchable, especially after Greengrass's latest debacle. Security will be even higher than before, and unless we can imperius members of the auror department, I find it unlikely an assassination can be attempted. However –" Ollivander stepped closer to the Dark Lord, recognizing his master's slowly ebbing patience.

"Just as before, there are other ways. Lies mixed with truth, fabrications with just enough fact that can make them question who has been leading them these past two decades. And then, when the confusion and suspicion begin to mount, you will call him up to battle, one on one. We've already seen that he is no match for you –"

"But he still has the Elder wand –"

"Of course, but not for long." Voldemort glared in aggravation, not appreciative of being cut off by one of his inferiors. Ollivander lowered his head apologetically, but did not cease speaking. "As you know, there has been a plan in place for nearly two weeks, that I believe will still work. In fact, I have just been informed that the whereabouts of the three elements are known, and our spy is in place to take them when you are ready."

"If you mean my sister, I really don't think she will ever come to our side. She does not believe in our noble cause." Andrew stated maliciously. "She will have to be killed, along with the other fools who believe like she does."

" _Yes,_ you are right that she cannot be convinced to come to our side, however she _can_ be convinced to betray Harry Potter. She would truly do anything to save her husband, which is why I have contacted her and given the task of retrieving certain items from Potter, or her husband will suffer. Do the names Alice and Frank Longbottom ring a bell?" Cruel laughter rang through the large room at the top of the tower, though none greater than Voldemort's.

"Yes. Yes, when the time is right, I will battle Harry Potter, and when I do it will be I, Lord Voldemort, who will be the Master of Death, not he. And one more thing, Ollivander." The Dark Lord turned to the man who now knelt at his feet, a look of wicked delight on his face at the prospect. "Bring your chosen reporters to me, and I will give them a story worth telling. I know Potter's dirty little secrets, possibly better than anyone else. _I have seen his mind, and I know his heart._ We did share a significant connection, after all. _"_ Ollivander nodded, rising to return to the circle and await dismissal.

"And Greengrass? I suggest you show those fools what it means to disobey the demands of Lord Voldemort. If the dog requires the stick in order to behave, so be it. Bring me the family members of the Order of the Phoenix. I have need of their assistance." Andrew grinned, elated, and left the room as Voldemort sent them all away.


	37. Chapter 37

**I do not own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 37: Honesty

"Did you hear about what happened yesterday?" Rose asked quietly later that morning before breakfast.

"You mean about the article in the Daily Prophet? I tried, but Grandmum went and burned it almost the moment it arrived!" James huffed.

"I heard there were even more attacks. Uncle Harry's mum and dad were talking about it upstairs." Fred said conspiratorially, joining the group at the stairs as they waited to be called in by Molly to eat.

"Yeah, I think Lily was really upset."

"No, I wasn't." Said a petulant voice behind the steadily growing group as the auburn haired, green-eyed 8-year-old descended the stairs and sat beside Albus.

"Not _you,_ Lily. Dad's _mum_!"

"I don't know why you can't just call them grandmum and granddad Potter like we do grandmum and granddad Weasley." Fred said again.

"I dunno, it's just…. weird. They're _younger_ than our parents! They're closer to Teddy's age then mum and dad's age! They could be like our cousins! Or maybe an aunt and uncle." Albus replied heatedly.

"Well, who cares? They're still your grandparents no matter their age!" Rose answered.

"I like them. They played exploding snap with me when James was being mean yesterday." Lily said, a big smile on her face.

"Yeah, they've been trying to hang out and get to know us, which is fine of course, but also… weird… there's just no better word for it." James trailed off as if unsure how to continue that thought. "I dunno why. It just is. And I think dad thinks it's weird, too."

"Maybe you just need more time." Scorpius said.

"Yeah, maybe Uncle Harry does, too." Rose finished.

"He seems to have gotten over it to me." Lily said.

"BREAKFAST!" Molly called from the kitchen, breaking their train of thought. The children all rose from the steps excitedly, all except Scorpius. He watched as the group walked into the dining room. Waiting a moment to make sure no one re-emerged, he quickly stole upstairs, dodging the creakier steps, until he arrived at Harry and Ginny's bedroom. Harry had left early that morning for work, along with the majority of the Weasleys. Even George had returned to work at the joke shop now that the clean-up was finished at the ministry. Others, like Charlie, had joined some members of the Order to add extra protection for Hogwarts due to the attack from yesterday. Only Ginny, Angelina, and Molly remained at home all the time now. Angelina was to pregnant, and George didn't want to risk anything, and Ginny's job as Quidditch correspondent required her to go to Quidditch matches. Harry felt it was too much in the open, and not enough security. So she'd only gone into the office once or twice since Voldemort's return, and that was only to be of help editing the layout pages. Otherwise, she had all her work mailed to her and worked from home.

It was a daily argument between Molly and her family about what the point of a fidelius charm was if everyone just decided to "wander around" and go out and about regardless, but the family's response was always the same: if they didn't keep working and moving on with their lives, they would go insane. It seemed none of them were eager to repeat the horrible cabin-fever-like atmosphere that accompanied the last war when they were all cooped up at Muriel's, waiting for Harry to face Voldemort for the last time.

But not everyone left the house every day, and with so many spouses and cousins about, Scorpius definitely had to be on his guard. Astoria had assured him she would keep Ginny busy so as to give him enough time to sneak into the bedroom and find the cloak, but one couldn't possibly predict everything. In her words, it would be much less suspicious if he were found than her. He opened the door slowly, peering in. His heart beat erratically and he gulped audibly.

"What are you doing?"

Scorpius yelped and jumped, hitting his head on the door frame. He turned around with wide eyes, stammers already on his lips.

"I – Albus, James! Merlin, you scared me!" The two Potter boys looked at Scorpius, the air thick with suspicion.

"What are you doing trying to get into my parent's bedroom?" James asked. Scorpius thought fast.

"I – uh, actually I need your help with something. I heard your dad has an invisibility cloak…?" he asked. Now it was James' and Albus' turn to look surprised.

"What? How do you even know about that?"

"Oh, come one. Everyone knows the famous Harry Potter has an invisibility cloak."

"No they don't. Do they?" Albus asked, confused. Suddenly a light seemed to turn on in Albus' mind. "Wait, Scorp. Does this have to do with…"

"The prank? Yes, it definitely does." Scorpius cut him off, knowing where Albus' thoughts were taking him at that moment – to two nights ago, with the necklace.

"Prank? What prank?" James asked, a touch of excitement now.

"Yeah… why don't you explain the prank, Scorpius…" Albus added, his suspicion thick now, though James didn't seem to notice.

"I'm up for a prank. This place needs a little humor as it is. What does this prank involve? Can Fred join in? And why do you need my dad's cloak?"

"Uh, well…" Scorpius was at a loss.

Albus sighed heavily. "The one about Great-great-auntie Muriel, right?" he said, his tone a mix of exasperation, humor, and surrender.

"Yeah… right!" Scorpius said, catching on, grateful for Albus' help and quick thinking. Albus just rolled his eyes.

"We thought it would be funny to fake a haunting or something." Albus said, eyeing Scorpius while Scorpius eyed James. James' face broke into a grin.

"Ah, brilliant! Nothing would freak out Grandmum more! She hated that woman! Oh, this is going to be great!" James leapt past them into his parent's room, his voice getting more excited as he began to think of all the possibilities.

Albus met Scorpius' eyes again, as if to say, "you will explain later," and he followed his older brother into the room. James was looking in his father's closet, checking the robe's pockets. Scorpius, feeling more and more uneasy, went straight for the dresser and began opening the drawers. His mum had told him it would be in one of these… there!

"I got it!" he said jubilantly. The cloak was shimmery and felt a bit like solid water, or perhaps it was just really light. He rolled it up, stuffing it under his sweater. He closed the drawer, James closed the closet, and the three boys quickly left the room, closing the door behind them.

"I'll take it to my room, in case your dad notices it's missing. He'd never suspect _me_ to have taken it." Scorpius said, and James nodded enthusiastically.

"Ok, perfect! We'll talk details after breakfast. I'm sure grandmum is wondering where we are by now." Scorpius hurried to his room as the Potter boys rushed back to the main floor. Now, his mother just had to somehow get the locket from Ginny, and when Harry got home, his mum would have the last thing she needed to save his dad.

…

Harry hissed in pain as he rubbed more salve on his burnt hands. The smell of smoke and the sound of screams still echoed in his head and nostrils. The look of the man on fire whom Harry had grabbed and hauled to safety before performing an extinguishing charm swam into view, and he knew it would haunt his dreams tonight. The man had been taken directly to St. Mungos, but it was unsure if he would survive.

Since the demands of three days ago, the violence had increased ten-fold. The aurors had captured and imprisoned no less than two dozen offenders, including Bulstrode, Mulciber, and Carrow, which was a significant achievement considering their position in Voldemort's inner circle. The attacks continued, however, each with a message left behind, taunting Harry to surrender.

He had lost another auror today, and three more were in St. Mungos. He rolled up his sleeves to examine any other damage to his wrists or arms, sighing in relief when he saw nothing but soot and grime. He checked his watch, which read 11 o'clock. It was late, and he was exhausted. He had placed himself on the interchanging shifts along with the rest of the aurors, and he could hear the night shift preparing their reports on the events thus far. He himself was already two hours past when his shift should have ended, but he couldn't allow himself to go home when the emergency call came that a shop owner's store had been set upon by Risen Followers, and the fire was now reaching the neighboring buildings.

A knock sounded at his office door. "Enter." He called, rolling his sleeves back down and adjusting his glasses.

"Sir, have you checked the time?" Alan Turner asked, one of his newer employees, and besides the interns, was the youngest in the office. Harry looked up at him, noting the concern the young man seemed to have in his eyes. Concern for him, his boss.

"Yes. It's a bit late, isn't it?" Harry replied nonchalantly.

"Aye, sir. Well, the night shift is well under-way. I expect we should be clear for the rest o' the night, if you want to return home. Just thought I'd, uh…" he trailed off, self-consciously. Harry let out a low and short chuckle, amused by the man and his motherly attitude.

Harry nodded silently in assent, his throat still raw from yelling orders and breathing in smoke. "Contact me should anything happen in the night." He said by way of dismissal. Harry gathered his things, pondering on the past few days. He had known there would be a serious comeuppance for refusing the Dark Lord's demands – not that he'd ever planned on accepting them, but even he was surprised by the amount of civil unrest that had resulted along with the terrorist's actions. The Howlers had increased, though as had many letters of support and encouragement. Reporters continued to try to sneak in, but now had to fight through their own co-workers to reach the auror department. Many reporters felt it wrong to distract Harry and the aurors, when they should be fighting Voldemort's supporters, not journalists.

The Daily Prophet and other publications and tabloids were at war, and not as one would expect. It wasn't publication against publication, but individual journalist against fellow journalist, who were fighting tooth and nail, each choosing a side on where they stood concerning Harry Potter.

Many reporters who had previously been on Harry's side now turned against him, angry and explosive. Harry didn't know how they had gotten their information, but suddenly it was as if his whole life had been laid out for the world to see. It was disconcerting, as he honestly didn't know how they had gotten their information.

Articles concerning his actions during the last year of the war had stirred up quite the reaction. Especially those including his use of the imperious curse on a goblin, and his many other illegal, and some considered immoral, actions. His hate for his muggle relatives, his rule-breaking and thievery (though to be fair, it was Hermione and Dobby who had actually stolen the objects listed in that particular article), his horrible attack on a fellow classmate his sixth year (though Draco's name was redacted), his attempt at the cruciatus curse on Bellatrix Lestrange after the battle of the Department of Mysteries, and his subsequent possession by Voldemort himself were written in a particularly gruesome light, filled with exaggeration.

Articles were even written concerning himself and Albus Dumbledore – articles that put Rita Skeeter's book on Dumbledore to shame. Assumptions and allegations of a strange, but otherwise innocent, relationship between a student and professor quickly turned nasty and morbid, making Harry's stomach churn, sickened.

But not all the articles were negative. In fact, numerous reporters that worked for the Daily Prophet, such as Cho Chang, Zacharias Smith, and Alicia Spinnet, refused to write such trash, and instead wrote glowingly positive reviews of Harry and his department, stating the many successes and triumphs they'd had in the last 17 years. They shared their own personal experiences regarding the D.A., and spoke of his moral standings, and his leadership and valuable teachings that had saved so many lives during the war.

As a result, for the past two days it was like a battle on every page, each telling a different story about Harry Potter, varying from almost unbelievably positive to appallingly negative. The real news of what was happening concerning the attacks and the war with Voldemort was only covered lightly, with heavy accents on Harry's abilities to handle the situation.

Harry looked at his watch, and groaned again. It was very late, and even Ron and Hermione had already left for home. He rose from his seat at his desk and gathered his things. He inclined his head at those he passed on his way to the apparition point, and appeared at the doorway with a small _pop!_

He opened the door silently, hoping not to wake anyone as he hung up his cloak. Suddenly, he stilled as he heard voices coming from the dining room. He had assumed everyone would be asleep already, and was wary to see light streaming into the hallway. He opened the door and the voices ceased immediately, and all eyes turned on him.

"Harry! I wondered when you'd get home." Ginny gasped, drawing out a chair for him and stepping into the kitchen to make him some tea. Harry was slightly anxious to see not only Ginny, but Ron and Hermione, Molly and Arthur, and his parents were all still awake, each with empty cups of tea in their hands. They seemed to have been in deep discussion before Harry had interrupted.

"What's going on?" he asked curiously.

"Hermione apparently has something important to tell us, but refused to talk until you got home. She also refused to wait until tomorrow, so we've been drinking tea and staving off sleep until you arrived." Ron yawned, grumpily. "It's about bloody time." Hermione just rolled her eyes, though she seemed to be nervous and she paled slightly.

"Well, what is it then? If it's so urgent it couldn't wait until morning, why didn't you tell me before you left the office?" Harry asked, exasperated. Hermione only gulped, and took another sip of tea, inclining her head in the direction of an open chair inviting him to take a seat. He did so, thanking Ginny as she handed him a fresh cup, and they waited while she passed out more tea to the rest of them.

"Well, go on then dear. It's obvious you've been wanting to say something for a while now, though why right this moment and not any other is beyond me." Molly said, sounding very much like her youngest son as she tried to hide her grumpiness. Lily and James just looked perplexed, like they were unsure as to why they were included in this little meeting. Hermione cast a quick silencing charm on the door, and began.

"Alright, now that everyone it concerns is here, I do have some news that I need to share. I wasn't sure how to tell you, and I wasn't sure if I even wanted to, but I've been holding it in for days now and I just can't anymore." Hermione said stiffly, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"Harry, I met with Professors Dumbledore and Snape the day of the demands. That's why I wasn't with Kingsley at Gringotts. I wanted to speak with them about…" At this, she finally raised her gaze and looked Harry in the eyes. "About your parents. I had a theory, and I was afraid I was right." Her eyes filled with tears, but she sniffed and refused to let them fall.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. I'm sorry, Lily, James. There's something you have to know…"


	38. Chapter 38

**I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

Chapter 38: For the Sake of Family

" _Harry, I met with Professors Dumbledore and Snape the day of the demands." Hermione said. Her eyes filled with tears, but she sniffed and refused to let them fall._

 _"I'm so sorry, Harry. I'm sorry, Lily, James. There's something you have to know…"_

…..

Harry sat at the table, unmoving. He didn't know what to feel. He didn't know what to say.

Lily and James clutched each other's hands, and neither were meeting anyone else's gaze.

Molly had her hand over her mouth as silent tears fell, and Arthur had his arm wrapped around his wife's shoulders. Ron mirrored his father, only with an expression of stormy anger and resentment on behalf of his best friend.

Hermione only stared at Harry, searching for a reaction, while Ginny mirrored her brother's expression: rage on behalf of her husband.

"So, what you're saying is we can't kill the bastard without losing Lily and James as well. That's what you're saying?" Ron asked quietly, bridling his temper at the injustice of it all.

"Yes." Hermione whispered.

"Bollucks. I don't believe it." Ron stood suddenly, his stature and anger creating a very imposing figure. "This is utter shite, and there's got to be another way." His fist slammed the table, and he looked around the room expectantly. When no one reacted, he threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender and stormed out of the room. They heard the slam of the front door as he left, and an audible _crack!_ as he disapparated, his anger making his departure loud enough to be heard all the way inside.

They sat in silence for what seemed an eternity, all lost in their own horrified thoughts. The only movement was their drinking of Ginny's fresh batch of tea, ignoring Ron's full teacup, which lay untouched.

"So, what can we do?" Arthur asked, breaking the silence. He squeezed his wife's shoulders as a sob nearly escaped her throat.

"We can't let Voldemort die. Simple. We – we capture him, or…" Harry stammered, regaining his voice. He trailed off, knowing it was impossible. Voldemort could not be allowed to live, and yet his parents couldn't be allowed to die.

"I… I don't know what to do." He finally finished, looking at Lily and James desperately. _He had only just gotten them back._

"There's nothing you can do."Came a voice suddenly behind them harshly. The group snapped their heads, searching for the source of the noise. A rustle of movement drew their gaze, and Astoria Malfoy suddenly appeared, letting the invisibility cloak drop to the floor, her wand outstretched, her face stony and impassive.

"Astoria, what -?" Ginny stood as Harry grabbed her arm to stop her from rising. Astoria had her wand trained on them all.

"Shut up." Astoria said. "Just, shut up. I overheard everything, and I seem to be the only person who fully understands the implications of what you've all just discussed." Her wand was steady, and eyes steely, as she pointed the wand at Lily Potter. "This isn't what I had planned, but it might just do." She whispered, almost to herself, before continuing.

"Astoria, what's happened…?" Arthur asked cautiously. "This isn't like you."

"Oh, what do you know!? I live here a few days and suddenly you think you know me? Well you don't. You all want to know how to kill Voldemort without killing the Potters? Well, why don't we kill the Potters to assure that Voldemort will die?" As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt herself fly backward, slamming into the wall behind her. She crumpled to the ground, and felt the tug on her wand as she was nearly disarmed. But she had been expecting it, and so gripped her wand tighter, refusing to relinquish it.

She gasped, trying to get breath back into her lungs, and looked up into the face of Harry, his wand outstretched. He had drawn so fast she hadn't even seen it before she was already on the ground. Ginny was close behind, his own wand drawn. The rest of the group followed suit, aiming at her defensively.

"What the Hell do you think –" Harry began, his eyes dark and stormy with rage.

"DON'T YOU SEE!?" She shrieked, hysterically, pain exploding in her back as she struggled to rise, holding tightly to her wand still. "Sacrifices must be made! For the greater good, for the rest of the wizarding world! For… for Draco!" she dissolved into tears, sobbing, no longer able to hold in her desperation.

Harry lowered his wand, and motioned for the others to do the same.

"No." he said. "Not at the expense of my parents. Not again." Lily and James continued to hold tightly to each other, and Lily allowed the tears to fall. They watched as Astoria continued to sob.

"How can you?" She asked, rasping. "How – how can you just allow so many to – to suffer, and – and my husband – Draco - to suffer? With Voldemort dead, he – he might live!"

"Because, Astoria, this isn't the first time I've had to make hard decisions that affect the lives of others." Harry said coolly. "And, because I know that killing Voldemort won't save your husband, any more than it will save my parents." Harry spoke in a cold, detached sort of way. "If Voldemort were to suddenly drop dead, it would only result in chaos, and no doubt your husband would be caught in the cross fire. He is hated by too many on both sides."

Astoria sniffled, regaining control of her emotions. "But if you could save them? If you _could_ save the ones you love…" She began in a whisper, pleading. Before she could finish, however, Astoria gasped, her hand flying to her throat. Her eyes were wide with terror, and her hand gripped a thin gold chain that glistened at her neckline before falling beneath her robes.

"Draco!?" she gasped, closing her eyes in concentration.

"What is it!?" Hermione cried, and Harry quickly moved to her side. She drew out the necklace, clutching it in her hand. Harry's eyes flew to it, and understanding dawned immediately.

"Astoria, this is it, isn't it!? Why didn't you tell us you had it!?" He demanded.

"No, no, no." She moaned, "Not now!" Releasing the chain and putting her hands to her head, she clutched it as if she was in great pain. Harry reached for her, but she began to struggle, flinging herself away from them, her eyes closed tightly, and screams suddenly ripped from her throat.

"Astoria is it…. Is it Malfoy? Is it Draco? Astoria!" Harry entreated again, his voice rising in volume. She refused to answer, and instead began kicking out, as if fighting off an invisible enemy, screams continuing to drown out the voices around her.

"Get it off her! GET IT OFF HER NOW!" Harry yelled, grabbing her hands in a vice like grip and pulling them away. Lily took hold of the chain, lifting it frantically over her head, only to drop it to the ground in shock.

Astoria ceased her screams, and began to sob. Arthur took her into his arms, hugging her and looking at Harry, bewildered.

"I think it's cursed!" Lily cried, clutching her hands to her chest in residual pain.

"No, no it's the trinket left by Draco! She said his name, as if she were speaking to him. It must have a connection, like they can feel what the other is feeling. It means…" Harry paled, looking at the necklace once more. "Perhaps Draco will still be able to think consciously. If they torture him to unconsciousness, or kill him, we lose our chance." He whispered, cognizant of the fact that Astoria was right next to him. He looked at Ginny, grimacing at what he was about to do, then reached forward and took hold of the necklace.

"Harry, no!" Ginny cried. Harry ignored her.

It throbbed and shocked his hands powerfully, and suddenly it was like there was a distant screaming filling his head. But it was muted, like from far away. Harry's grimace deepened, and hardening his resolve, he placed the necklace over his head.

Suddenly, it was like he was a teenager again, being sucked into one of his visions of Voldemort. He looked out from the eyes of someone else, and felt their emotions. He could hear their thoughts.

At the moment, the only thought was torment. A man stood over him, pointing a wand at his chest, the cruciatus curse tearing his very nerves apart. He wasn't sure how long it lasted, only that when it was finally lifted, it left him weak and dizzy. Harry gasped and trembled, his body burning and aching. He strove to clear his thoughts.

 _Malfoy? Draco?_ A long pause, until Harry heard the voice of Draco Malfoy in his head.

 _Astoria?_

 _No._ Harry thought, hoping he was doing this right. _It's me, Harry. Harry Potter._

 _Oh Lord, you've got to be joking. Get out of my head, Potter!_ Came the distant groan, the thoughts somewhat scattered. But Draco's repulsion at having Harry of all people in his head was obvious.

Another painful tremor rocked their bodies, and Harry forced himself to focus through the pain.

 _Malfoy, where are you? I can help you!_

He cut off as another bout of the cruciatus curse fell upon them. Harry fought to form coherent thoughts despite the torture, but it was impossible, and Draco was shutting down.

 _Malfoy! Dammit, Malfoy, tell me where you are!_ He thought desperately as knives seemed to pierce his skin. Draco was fading quickly, and blackness was descending upon them both. _Draco, hold on! Don't - ! Tell me where you are!_

 _I'm sorry, I - I don't know anymore. I can't remember how I even got here._ Draco voice came as a whisper, almost more to himself than to Harry.

Harry looked though Draco's eyes, and the face of the man above them came near as he crouched down. Draco's eyes were closing and blurred, and Harry couldn't make out the man's face. "I do hope you're listening, Mrs. Malfoy, because this is your last warning. Do as you're told or say goodbye to what little sanity he has left." He said. Harry recognized the voice. _Ollivander!_

Despite Harry's frenzied protestations, Draco succumbed to blessed unconsciousness, his mind darkening, leaving only nightmares for Harry to witness.

Harry removed the necklace, throwing it away from him like it would contaminate him, and found himself on the ground, looking up into Ginny's worried eyes. She was caressing his face, like she was trying to rouse him. Tears were in her eyes, and Harry knew immediately he had not succeeded in keeping the shared torture between only himself and Draco. Other faces loomed above, and Harry looked up blurrily.

Taking a deep breath, Harry sat up with a start, sweat coating his body and his muscles aching at the mere memory of the shared torture.

Harry swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. "Draco is still alive, but…" he trailed off, and allowed Ginny to help him to his feet. His throat felt raw, so he knew he had been screaming.

Astoria lay in Arthur's arms, trembling and sobbing.

"Why didn't you tell us you had it!?" Ginny snapped at Astoria, clutching Harry's arm to help steady him. "WHY HAVE YOU BEEN HIDING THIS FROM US!?" she barked, and magic filled the room as the china from the table burst, spilling tea onto the floor. "HOW COULD YOU…" Suddenly, Ginny's voice broke off, and she clutched her head in pain, her wand clattering from her hand to the ground. Behind her, Molly suddenly collapsed, falling to the floor with a painful thud.

Ginny looked around and sank to her own knees, no longer able to speak. Harry immediately descended with her, cradling her as she seemed to go in and out of consciousness. He laid her on the ground, and strode towards Astoria.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!" Harry bellowed, raising his wand. But his eyes were blurry, and his wand unsteady. He couldn't aim. He held onto the wall to remain upright and gasped as Arthur, too, fell unconscious. He reached out as Hermione's knees buckled. He reached forward in an effort to help slow her descent, then winced as he lost his balance, falling to his hands and knees.

"What… what did…" Harry struggled to form coherent words, and he felt his wand being torn from his fingers as he was disarmed. He reached blindly forward, but was unable to use his arms or turn his head. He fought against the sudden drugged state, and felt more than heard the dining room tremble slightly as Lily and James hit the ground as well, their boneless weight reverberating through the floor to his body.

He watched as Astoria stepped over their prone forms of those around her until she was behind him and out of sight before he finally lost consciousness as well.

….

Astoria wiped her cheeks absentmindedly as she looked at the small group at her feet. She did not hear Ollivander's last warning, but she had no doubt what Draco's torture had meant. She was running out of time, and this was her last chance.

It worked better than she had originally thought. She knew she would be hidden in the invisibility cloak as they had their secret meeting, making it easy to slip the slow acting sleeping potion into the tea kettle. She hadn't meant to stray from her plan, but as she listened to their discussion, the knowledge about Lily and James shocked her. It changed everything! If she could just kill Voldemort, what power would Ollivander have any more? What power would any of them have? Was it really so simple?

She held her wand tightly, and looked down at Lily Potter. _It would be so easy,_ she thought, _one killing curse, and Voldemort would be dead._ She stole herself, gulping thickly, and rehearsed the words in her mind. If she had known it could be that easy, perhaps she would have done it ages ago.

But even then, she had never performed such a curse. Even during school as a fifth year, she had so hated performing the cruciatus or imperius on other students. Her curses were barely effective, and as a result she was often punished instead. She just never had had it in her to hurt another.

But then again, she meant what she had said to Harry. _Sacrifices had to be made._ Draco had known it. She knew it too. Which is why they were in the mess they were in now; Draco captured, and she… a soon to be murderer for the sake of her family. She opened her mouth hesitantly, disappointed at herself when no sound came out. She tried again, but was forced to close her mouth with a _clack!_ of teeth.

 _Could she really do this?_ She thought, desperately, not noticing as another figure entered the room silently. _Draco had been willing, and even attempted murder on multiple occasions for the sake of his family in the war!_

"Should I not be willing to do the same?"She whispered aloud, her hand shaking. But even as she asked herself the question, her wand began to lower, her eyes closing in defeat.

"Do it." Came a voice suddenly.

She spun around, shocked. There, in the doorway, was Scorpius.

"I told you to wait on the stairs and keep lookout. I told you that I would take care of it." She snapped, lowering her wand fully.

"I heard what they said, too. If you kill her, you kill the Dark Lord, and father will be safe. Not only him, but the entire wizarding world. Do it!" he said again.

Her heart froze in her chest, and she didn't move; she didn't speak. She just stared at him blankly, not letting her emotions show.

"I'll do it, if you want." Scorpius said quietly, gulping thickly, his lower lip trembling just slightly. His blonde hair was disheveled, his cold gray eyes just like his father's. His skin was pale – too pale, and he continued to tremble, as if trying not to cry. She was stunned by his fervor, and she studied him in silence, calculating and expressionless. Finally, she spoke.

"Do you really think you could?" she asked quietly.

…..

Scorpius gulped heavily as he looked at his mother now, standing above the unconscious form of Lily Potter, her wand lowered, her face impassive.

"Do you really think you could?" she asked.

He had known this was the night. He had known his mother was in the dining room under Harry's invisibility cloak, placing drops of sleeping potion in the tea kettle. He had refused to go to bed, instead slipping his Extendable Ears beneath the door after Mr. Potter had entered the room, and listened intently as they explained the terrible connection between Voldemort, Lily, and James Potter.

He growled as he heard his mother be thrown across the room, almost rushing in to help her. But what help could he be? He didn't even have a wand. He heard his mother's screams, and then Harry's. He remembered his own encounter with the necklace, feeling the horrible pain and fear that his father was in. He didn't know how much longer his father had, but if tonight failed, he knew it wouldn't be long.

He wanted Draco to know that he didn't care what horrible things he did when he was younger. He had been so disgusted at first, but the past was the past. People could change, and bad people could become good people. Scorpius just wanted his father back – even if it meant forgiving him his past.

"Do you, Scorpius? Could you kill for your father's sake?" Astoria asked again, and his eyes snapped back to her, bringing him back to the present. Her face remained impassive, as if honestly waiting to see what he would say. He looked her in the eye, and suddenly a deep understanding filled his heart.

He realized then exactly what his own father had experienced all those years ago - A love for his family, and a bravery that perhaps many would refer to as selfish. But it was a different kind of bravery than what others think – a willingness to do what was necessary to keep his family safe, even if it meant destroying his own soul. Even if it meant being loyal to someone as evil as Voldemort, because to choose otherwise would mean the death of his parents.

Yes, his father had been put in an impossible position when he was in Hogwarts because of his parent's actions, and out of love and fear, he had done terrible things. Things he regretted.

Though Scorpius wondered, even now, if Draco would have changed his actions back then if given a second chance.

 _Maybe… maybe not…_

"Well?" Astoria asked again, no doubt reading his thoughts as only a mother could as he stood there in silence.

 _No. He was not his father. Whether that was a point of pride or shame he was still unsure, but his father's bravery he most certainly lacked._

His face crumpled, and he looked at the ground in shame. "Mum." He whispered pitifully, a one-worded cry, and he felt her rush forward and envelop him in her arms. It was all the answer she needed.

"I would never have allowed it, anyway." she breathed, holding him tightly to her. He shook his head, tears running freely now.

"I just want to help him, mum." He sobbed.

"I know," She whispered. She pulled away but didn't release him, instead holding his shoulders tightly and looking him in the eyes. "But he would not want you to destroy yourself for him. He would not want you to bear what he has borne nearly all his life."

She seemed desperate for him to understand, and fear laced her every syllable as she looked at her son. "You are too good, Scorpius. You have too good a heart. You are the best of us all, and you alone remain blameless in this family." She said thickly, tears streaming down her cheeks. "But I am not, and any guilt is upon _my_ shoulders." She drew him close again as she began to sob at what their little family had nearly become.

Through all the pain and agony caused by the war, it truly was this next generation of children that had brought light back: their innocence, purity, and wholesome detachment of the past, having been the first children to enjoy life without the stain of a Dark Lord in over a hundred years.

Scorpius had brought redemption to her family. He had brought redemption to Draco.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for all that I've done. You should never have had to see any of this, you should never have been placed in such a position _. I will make sure you never have to make the choices Draco had to make_." She finished vehemently. She kissed him quickly on the forehead, straightening up.

She looked again at the Potters lying on the floor, and drew a deep, steadying breath. "It was a moment of weakness, Scorpius. Killing an innocent will not save your father, nor should it be the price." She said, as if resolving herself. "We will stick with the original plan, and you will go to your room and wait for me to contact you." She ordered, and Scorpius nodded.

She passed by Lily until she was standing over Ginny. Ginny alone remained awake, her eyes roaming the room. Her senses would have been severely affected by the drug, and Astoria wasn't sure how much she had heard, much less understood, about what had just occurred between her and her son. But she hoped not much.

Either way, she was pleased to see she had been successful with her measurements. Ginny's cup of tea had received a significantly less potent batch of sleeping potion. It was a highly illegal substance, and was more commonly used by perverted and disgusting wizards while on a date. Just a couple drops in someone's drink would make them lethargic, confused, and unable to function well enough to refuse or fight.

Ginny's eyes focused on Astoria above her, confused and frightened. "Give me the necklace." Astoria demanded. Ginny blinked, as if processing the request. Astoria growled in impatience as Ginny refused to answer, instead only barely managing to shake her head no. " _Give it to me willingly, or I will force you to do it."_ Astoria hissed. "I heard you perform your enchantment, and I know which one you used. I need only your consent, and I can remove it for you. _Now give me the stone!"_

Another shake, and Astoria frowned. "Fine. You've brought it on yourself. _Imperio!"_ She cried. Ginny whimpered. "It's been a long time since I used this spell. I've not used it since sixth year, and I didn't relish in it then. But needs must, I suppose." Astoria said icily, repeating the incantation and adding more force. For the first time, it seemed Astoria was actually being successful at casting the control spell.

In Ginny's drugged state, Astoria was surprised at her ability to fight the curse for as long as she did. Finally, however, in exhaustion and pain, Ginny surrendered. Nodding her consent, she allowed Astoria to remove the necklace. Astoria removed a vile from her robes pocket, and placed a couple drops in Ginny's mouth, allowing her to drift away into dreamless sleep.

She looked around her, searching for her telesol. Upon finding it, just barely out of Harry's outstretched hand, she reached down and lifted the necklace from the ground, draping it around her neck. She needed only wait a moment before the voice sounded in her head.

 _Do you have what I asked for?_ Ollivander's voice filled her mind, and anger bubbled just beneath the surface.

 _Yes. Where shall we meet?_ A sharp scene of a tall, foreboding fortress loomed into sight, and like a secret-keeper revealing the location of a fidelius charm, coordinates appeared in her vision.

 _I'll be waiting…_ he purred, before cutting off contact, and instead Draco's unconscious nightmares loomed in her vision.

She carefully removed the telesol, and handed it to Scorpius. She retrieved the cloak from the ground and tucked it away in her robes with the Elder Wand she had taken from Harry, and the locket she had taken from Ginny.

"Don't forget what I told you." She said as Scorpius hugged her once more. "And don't forget the plan. It's not over yet." Scorpius nodded mechanically, fear and desperation still radiating from his frame. She hugged him tightly once more before leaving through the front door, and disapparating into the darkness.


	39. Chapter 39

**I do not own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling:)**

Chapter 39: The Beginning of the End

Astoria appeared with a quiet _pop!_ looking around herself apprehensively. The large fortress loomed into sight, sending a chill through her very bones. It was still very dark, but it would be morning soon. She closed her eyes a moment to gather her bearings.

 _With morning comes a new day, and a new beginning._ She thought, clutching her wand tightly.

She opened her eyes, and strode forward purposefully, her other hand clenched in a fist. She felt more than saw as she crossed the powerful wards, and kept her face impassive as Henrick Ollivander emerged from the fortress. His own wand was alight, casting a glow ahead of him and creating a sense of foreboding as he drew near.

"Ah, my dear Astoria. I'm glad to see you again. It's been many years since we last laid eyes on each other." He said, a false pleasantness about him. She remembered it well, all those years ago at the ministry before she had left for Spain. She hadn't even known she was pregnant yet, and she and Draco had only just been married.

"How did you know?" she couldn't help but ask. "How did you know the telesol would be useful to you all those years ago? Have you really been planning this for so long?"

"Oh, my plan of resurrecting the Dark Lord was hardly a glimmer of an idea back then. I was much more concerned with finding the Hallows, and I knew you were a believer. I hoped it would come in handy one day. It did work out quite nicely, didn't it?" he asked, reaching his hand to caress her shoulder. The caress quickly changed to a harsh grip as he physically removed her wand with his other hand. She didn't struggle. She knew she would have to be compliant if she wanted to see Draco.

"Now, where are the Hallows, my dear? You do have them, don't you?" he asked. She nodded, patting her robes pocket, indicating. He grinned, walking behind her and reached his own hand into her robes pocket. She closed her eyes, revolted, as he allowed his hands to wander without restraint, his breath on her neck. He drew her closer, but she held her head high, determined not to show her disgust.

Finally, he removed the cloak and the wand. He smiled triumphantly as he walked around her, facing her once again as he ran his fingers through the cloak's silky cloth, and along the length of the wand.

"The Elder Wand – made of Elder and Thestral hair. It really is quite magnificent, isn't it?"

She didn't respond, and he pocketed both, seemingly unaffected by her lack of response.

"Where is the stone?" he demanded.

She smiled slightly with satisfaction as she withdrew the small necklace from under her blouse, brandishing the locket while leaving the chain firmly around her neck. "In here, enclosed and protected by powerful enchantments. Only I can remove it from around my neck, and only I can open the locket. Not even my death would disturb the spell." She said, her tone a bit smug as she watched his face redden in frustration.

"Give it to me."

"No. Not until I have Draco, and I am confident that I can leave with him and my son in peace." She replied testily. Henrick's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I could easily use the imperious curse." He stated simply.

"You could try. Unfortunately for you, I have been able to withstand that curse ever since my sixth year." Of course, Ginny also had been a very capable witch, also able to withstand the curse under normal circumstances. Astoria could only hope the idea drugging her and the imperius curse would escape him.

"And what if I just killed your husband? Or worse, made you watch as I tortured him? I've been wondering lately how much of the cruciatus curse it would take before one lost their mind. Let's find out, shall we?" he growled, grabbing her elbow harshly.

A cry of pain nearly escaped her lips, but she gritted her teeth, and instead thrust her arm out of his grip, standing her ground.

"So, do it!" she hissed. "You mistake me for a foolish Gryffindor, but I am not. I may disagree with you and your disgusting morals and ideals, but I am a Slytherin, through and through. I know when I am at an advantage, and I know when and how to use your weakness against you. You want this locket, and unless I get what _I_ want, you will never have it. If you hurt him, not even the Dark Lord himself could remove it from my neck." She spat at him, leaning close until she was eye to eye with her enemy.

Ollivander seemed to pale even more, his eyes widening as he gauged the unyielding resolution of her statement. She was not lying, that much was obvious. He growled lowly, taking a moment to come up with a response.

"I believe you _think_ you will never surrender the stone. Perhaps you are right. Shall we test that theory? Perhaps we should place _you_ under the cruciatus curse until you don't even know which way is up or down. What would stop you then? What would stop you from removing a useless hunk of jewelry, whose importance is no longer of consequence to your addled mind?" he hissed in response, his breath on her face making her cringe.

She flinched back. She wasn't surprised, though she had underestimated his pride. Henrick reveled in her silence, his manic grin returning. "Well," she said, sounding much braver than she was, "If you want to do this the hard way, be my guest. Or you could just let us go. Your choice."

"No, the choice is yours. And you seem to have made the wrong one; but I don't mind a challenge." He said darkly.

She looked him in the eye, unblinking. "Then I suppose we'd best get started, because I won't be easy to break." And with that she was led into the tower, his wand stabbing her painfully in the back, a curse on the tip of his tongue.

….

Ron appeared at one of Diagon Alley's apparition points, just around the corner from George's shop. When he had disapparated from Muriel's, he didn't even pause to think where to go. He had just left, and apparently his subconscious was screaming the Joke Shop. He mentally berated himself, realizing the stupidity of disapparating without a firm destination. He could have easily splinched himself! His shoulder gave an involuntary flinch, his scars still thick like ropes. He rubbed it absentmindedly, lost in memory for a moment as he began to wander the streets towards the Weasley's Wizard Weezes.

His mind was racing and troubled. It was late, and the stars that would have shone brightly above were blocked by stormy clouds. Heavy rain pelted him, and within seconds he was soaked. But he didn't care. He was too angry. He couldn't believe this! After all this time, after all these years, his best friend actually got his parents back, and now what? They have to die? It wasn't right. Why did fate always have to be so cruel?

He leaned against the shop's outer wall, not bothering to go inside. He shivered in the cold. _I should've had some of that tea while I had the chance,_ he thought to himself regretfully as his skin trembled with the fresh onslaught of wind blowing through the streets.

He ignored it, not even bothering to perform a heating charm or impervious charm. What was the point? There were other things he needed to worry about, like how they could possibly defeat Voldemort without killing him. The dark lord wasn't exactly the type to sit quietly in Azkaban, nor had his followers ever been the type that would leave him there. Apparently, they weren't even the type to leave him dead!

He sighed again, pushing off from the wall and walking back up the street. Only a few days ago he had been here with George, sharing stupid jokes on their way to Ollivander's. And now? He was just wandering. Why did he even leave? He wasn't much of a friend – just leaving Hermione and Harry alone to deal with such terrible knowledge. But he couldn't bring himself to return, and instead he continued to walk the streets of Diagon Alley, getting soaked and frozen in the rain.

Almost an hour had passed, and Ron finally stopped. He had been going in a circle, and now found himself at the same spot from a few days ago, as if he had retraced his steps with George. He looked up at the wand shop, watching as the sign reading "Ollivander's" creaked and swayed in the wind.

It would be morning soon. He had been wanting to come back and ask Ollivander again about his nephew, but hadn't found the time. Harry hadn't seemed to think it too important, and he couldn't blame him, considering all the other things that had been happening.

Ron shivered anew, the cold once again breaking his train of thought.

 _Oh bugger, why the hell not?_ He thought to himself, striding up to the shop door. He knocked on it loudly, banging with tremendous force to assure he was heard over the storm. After a few moments, a light was seen upstairs, and Ron knew he had been successful in rousing the poor old wand-maker.

He smiled smugly to himself as the door was flung open, and Garrick Ollivander stood in the doorway, looking severely frazzled in his nightclothes and a horrendous case of bedhead. His wand was alight, and his sleepy, bloodshot eyes, gazed at the newcomer in disbelief.

"Mr. Weasley! What are you doing here? Especially at this hour?"

 _Well, I was meandering down the streets of Diagon Alley, and I was freezing, and trying to use up time before going back home where everything is depressing, and I can't do anything helpful…_ Ron thought to himself. He didn't say it out loud of course, instead going with, "I'm sorry, Mr. Ollivander. I know it's not exactly open hours, but I had to see you. It's, um… auror business. I had some more questions about your nephew that couldn't wait."

Ollivander just stared at him, incredulously. It looked like he was about to argue, and perhaps slam the door in Ron's face. Before he could, however, Ron placed a hand on the door, preventing it from closing.

"Please, sir. It's urgent." The freckled red-head gave his most endearing expression, which really wasn't hard considering he was sopping wet, slightly blue from cold, and obviously hadn't slept a wink the entire night. He really was quite pathetic.

"Oh alright." Ollivander sighed, allowing Ron to stride into the warmth and shelter his shop presented. Ron immediately began drying himself off with his wand, and Ollivander likewise began clearing away the puddles that had followed in his wake.

Having finished performing one last warming charm on himself, Ron thanked the wand-maker graciously as he was lead upstairs and offered a seat before a hastily conjured fire. Ron waited patiently as Ollivander bustled about making some tea, going so far as to offer biscuits, which Ron regretfully declined. It wasn't exactly professional to be eating while interviewing someone, unfortunately. It had taken him many years to learn that lesson.

He could hear Ollivander in the kitchen, and he took a moment to observe the small loft above the wand shop that the wand-maker called home. The small sitting-room was quite homey, with an entire wall filled with books of all sizes and colors. Most were very, very old, but they were obviously well cared-for. The opposite wall contained only shelves, filled with countless rows of wand ingredients; a tuft of unicorn hair, a bundle of vine, and what looked like jars of extremely large hearts – dragon, presumably, as well as many other objects.

Finally, Ollivander returned with a tray, and he sat across from the auror, leaning back comfortably and indicating he help himself. Ron took the tea gratefully, taking a long swig to warm his insides. Again, he regretted his choice to not drink any of the tea Ginny had offered back at Muriel's, but this tea wasn't too bad, if a little strong for his liking.

"I thought I answered your questions the last time you came in my shop, Mr. Weasley. I can't imagine what more I could do for you." Ollivander stated with a hint of finality. Ron wasn't fooled, however, and he could see he was hiding something.

"Actually sir, as I recall it, you answered _some_ of my questions. I need to know the whole story, Mr. Ollivander. I know there's more than what you told us concerning your nephew, and his mother Matilda."

"And what if I didn't tell you everything? Do you really believe it to be so important? Perhaps I only wanted to safeguard Matilda's reputation. What's the harm in that?"

"I understand, sir. But you must understand me as well. I have been an auror for many years now. Too many, if truth be told. I have come to trust my gut above all else, and it's gotten me out of quite a few scrapes. And ever since our conversation that day, my gut has been telling me to come back here. Perhaps I'm wrong, but I'd like to be the judge of that." Ron responded simply, making himself comfortable in his chair, as if prepared to wait as long as it took.

Garrick Ollivander looked as if he would argue. But after a moment, he seemed to surrender to some inner-battle.

"Alright, I'll tell you. Truth be told, you were right to trust your gut. I believe I have the information you need if you ever want to end this war. But please understand, Mr. Weasley. I sought only to protect my family, just as you have done ever since your years as a Hogwarts student." He whispered. And with that, he began his tale.

…

The sun began its ascent, peaking over the horizon to reveal the beginnings of a brilliant sunrise. Dawn light shone through the dining room window as Harry awoke abruptly, his hand immediately grasping for his wand. His fist closed around only air, and his breathing quickened in panic. He tried to rise, only to double over in a sudden fit of nausea. It took all of his self-control to stop himself from vomiting, his head spinning and a pounding headache nearly blinded him as the dim light of dawn spilled into the room.

He felt as if he were seriously hung-over, and he closed his eyes against the light. Groans were heard around him, and he groaned in sympathy as someone retched gruesomely.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin's third wife…" James said, retching again. Harry finally looked up, to see the majority returning to life; Molly and Arthur still laying on their backs gasping, Hermione leaning against the wall, and Lily rubbing James's back as he hunched over, obviously trying not to be sick herself. Ginny was the only one not moving, as it seemed she was still unconscious.

Harry crawled to her side, grunting as his dizziness increased with every movement.

"Ginny? Gin, wake up." He rasped, shaking her lightly. Her eyes seemed to flicker slightly, but she didn't wake.

"Mum said she'd still have another ten minutes or so before she'll wake up." Came a small voice from behind him. Harry whirled around to see Scorpius sitting in a corner of the dining room, his legs drawn up to his chest, his eyes red as if he had been crying. He was staring unwavering at Lily as she tried to help James get into a sitting position.

"Why? What did your mother give us, and why's it different for Ginny?" Harry demanded suspiciously.

"She gave you a sleeping potion. I helped her brew it, but Mrs. Potter's is a different kind. It's more delayed, to give mum a chance to get the necklace." Scorpius spoke monotonously, as if any sort of secrecy or resistance had left him, surrendering to the inevitable onslaught of questions from the adults around him. Harry paled, all breath leaving his lungs as he turned again to face his wife. His hands ran along her throat and neck, searching for the chain and locket that he had made to contain the Resurrection Stone. _Nothing!_

"Why did she take it? What use does she have in a necklace?" Harry demanded. But he knew it was useless to hope Astoria had thought it was nothing but a mere piece of jewelry. She would never have taken it unless she knew it was a Hallow.

In his peripherals, he could see the rest of the group shift slightly at the revelation of the missing necklace. Even Molly, who remained hunched over with Arthur rubbing her back. Despite the nausea, they were alert and eyeing the small blonde boy in the corner.

"Mum said it's not an ordinary necklace. She said it had something in it – something that would help my father."

"Something that – why? How? How did she know that?"

"She overheard you a few nights ago."

"And you helped with this?" Hermione asked harshly.

Scorpius turned to look at Hermione, his grey eyes cold as anger clouded them. "Yes, I did. What would you expect? He's my father, and _you_ weren't exactly doing anything to help him." Hermione closed her mouth with a _clack!,_ but her own eyes became stony, a barrage of words on the tip of her tongue.

Molly cleared her throat, eyeing Hermione sternly before Hermione could say something she might regret to the poor child. "We don't blame you, dear. We know you only wanted to help your family." She said in a motherly tone. Harry was suddenly reminded of how Molly had reacted his second year to Ginny, when Dumbledore explained Ginny's involvement in the Chamber of Secrets.

Molly looked around the room curiously, all still remaining on the floor, still too unsteady to stand. "Where's George? And Bill and Percy, and the rest of the family? Surely they would have heard us?" Hermione ignored her mother-in-law, turning the attention back to Scorpius.

"How long has your mother been planning this? How did we not realize we had a traitor in our midst!?" Hermione asked. Harry looked back at the young Malfoy, seeing a rush of guilt pass over his face. Harry held out his hand to quiet Hermione, who obliged, though not without a small glare of resentment.

"Scorpius? Will you start from the beginning, please?" Harry coaxed, like he would one of his own sons. Scorpius refused to meet his eyes, instead continuing to gaze at Lily, a bit dazed and unfocused.

"Scorpius? Scorpius, please. Your mother might be in grave danger, but I can't help her if you don't tell me what's going on." He said again, watching as Scorpius finally looked away from Lily and met his eyes. Harry took that as a good sign.

"Mum's been in contact with father for a while now. I found out, and she let me help her. She told me she could trade something for father's life. Albus helped me take the cloak, but mum obliviated him and James so they would stop asking why. I helped her brew the sleeping potions. Tonight, after everyone went to sleep, I was supposed to wait on the stairs in case anyone got nosey, and she was going to offer Harry and Ginny tea, and take the wand and necklace without anyone knowing.

But then Hermione had something important she wanted to discuss with Mr. Potter, so she had to improvise with the cloak and make _everyone_ fall asleep. She placed heavy sound charms on the door. That's why no one else heard your fight."

He directed that last statement to Hermione, shrugging as if it was no big deal that his mother had just drugged and disarmed the DMLE, Head of the Auror Department, and four war heroes.

This confirmed Harry's greatest fears. Astoria had all three Hallows, and she was going to deliver them to Voldemort.

"So, she and Draco have been planning this since the beginning? They've been in league with Voldemort since his return, all in an effort to deliver the Hallows to him?" James asked, his voice quivering slightly with anger.

"If that were the case, she was a very good actress." Arthur whispered.

"WELL OBVIOUSLY SHE WAS, CONSIDERING SHE FOOLED US ALL, AND HAS TAKEN THE HALLOWS TO VOLDEMORT!" Hermione barked, making Scorpius jump and shocking Harry out of his daze. Ginny groaned beside him, her eyes fluttering.

"MY MOTHER IS NOT IN LEAGUE WITH THE DARK LORD!" Scorpius yelled back, standing up and clenching his fists as he glared at Hermione. "And neither is my father." He finished.

"Oh, so she told you what these objects were, did she? She told you how they would help her in getting your father back?" Hermione fumed, her voice soft as if daring him to yell at her again. Scorpius reddened in embarrassment, and he opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off suddenly by Harry.

"'Mione, enough. This isn't like you. He's only a child." Harry said calmly, but with an air of authority. It was rare he used such a voice, but whenever he did, those around him old enough to remember were suddenly reminded of Albus Dumbledore. Hermione flushed, and visibly eased back. She was normally a very compassionate person, and she would never have talked to her own children in such a way.

"She's obviously not a death eater." Lily suddenly said, noting the abrupt change in the room's atmosphere at Harry's words. James, too, noticed with pride the power and leadership that Harry exuded without effort.

"Why do you say that?" Hermione asked in a much calmer voice, honestly wanting to know the answer.

"Because even a death eater wouldn't leave their child behind with the enemy. She either expects to come back with Draco, or die trying to save him." Lily replied quietly, acutely aware of Scorpius in the room. She watched him as his face crumpled and he slid back down the wall, curling his legs up to his chest as he glared at them. Tears welled in his eyes, but he seemed determined not to let them fall. Molly inched closer, sitting beside him and tenderly pulling him close to her.

The room went silent. The silence was broken by a groan and heavy breathing as Ginny suddenly awoke and struggled to get her bearings. Harry helped her into a sitting position and held her shoulders tightly. She leaned heavily on him, clutching her head in pain.

"Oh, bollucks, I'm going to be sick." Ginny moaned, threatening to vomit. Harry immediately held her hair back just in case, grimacing. Luckily, she seemed to overcome the temptation, and Harry rubbed her back sympathetically. He continued while waiting for her stomach and headache to settle.

"She's right. Astoria isn't a traitor, and neither is Draco." Harry said. "I felt his pain when I touched her necklace, and his fear was genuine. He doesn't expect to survive this, but somehow, Astoria thinks that she can trade the Hallows for his life." Harry stated.

Scorpius audibly rasped, obviously struggling to hold back sobs. Molly turned to him, knowing the pain their words were causing him. "Scorpius, do you know where your mother went? Did she tell you anything that could help us contact her, or find her? We only want to help her, dear."

He sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. Molly tried to coax an answer, but he ignored her, turning to Lily instead. His face was angry and accusatory. Molly stilled her coaxing and turned to Lily as well, curious at the sudden animosity.

"She could have killed you, you know." He said coldly. "If you die, so does You-Know-Who. She could have killed you, but she didn't. She's not a traitor." He seemed determined to make it known, in case anyone doubted Harry's or Lily's words.

Lily moved forward and knelt in front of the boy, placing a comforting hand on his knee. "That's because your mum is a good person. And she loves you very much, Scorpius. Now please, tell us so we can help her. Did she leave you any instructions, or a meeting place for you and her, for after she saved your father?" Lily entreated.

They met each other's gaze, and finally it was like something broke in Scorpius. His tears fell freely now, and he unclenched his fists to reveal the telesol that she had been using to communicate with Draco.

"She left this for me. She told me she would contact me when she got dad, to tell me when to leave the house. She said she would come and get me as soon as I left the wards of the fidelius charm." He whispered. "Just help her, okay?" he said softly, gingerly offering it to her.

Instead of taking it, she closed her fingers around his. "You keep it. Let us know when she contacts you, and we will do everything in our power to help her and your father. I promise." Scorpius met her eyes and nodded before burrowing his face in his hands, hunching in on himself in surrender. Lily moved away to allow Scorpius to fall into Molly's arms as she held and comforted him like she would her own grandchild.

The small group huddled on the ground looked on at Lily and Scorpius's exchange. As Lily rose to rejoin her husband in the corner, Harry helped Ginny to her feet, and faced the family, his green eyes determined.

"Arthur, please wake the rest of the house and tell them what's happened. Molly, contact the Order, and tell them to meet here. Ginny will send me word via patronus when Astoria makes contact with Scorpius' necklace. Hermione, find Ron and meet me at the ministry. If Astoria survives tonight, we will have Voldemort's location. And I intend to act on it."

"Alright! It's about time we get some action." James said, full of enthusiasm. Harry spun around, eyeing his father in sudden trepidation.

"I think you should stay here." Harry said quietly. James looked at his son, confused.

"And why is that? You don't think I'm up to it?" he asked teasingly. At Harry's expression, his grin faltered until it was gone completely. "You're not serious?" Harry's expression didn't waver.

"C'mon, son, I've been cooped up here since I woke up in Godric's Hallow, and it's not exactly been a party! Besides, unlike the rest of you, I actually have a debt to pay to that bastard, seeing as he's the one who killed me and all." He growled, his dark tone coloring the words.

"You're not coming. It's too dangerous." Harry said with finality, turning away to speak with Ginny.

"Like Hell we're not!" Lily snapped, forcing Harry to face them again. "We were in the first order, and we fought him plenty of times before you were born! We know the risks, and it's never stopped us before!"

Harry met their eyes and stared them down. "Being a part of the Order doesn't automatically make you qualified to fight Lord Voldemort!" He said tensely. James and Lily reeled back, astonished at his response.

"Oh, is that so!?" James asked, his anger apparent. "So, you were qualified when you FOUGHT HIM AT _SEVENTEEN_ -?" James was yelling now, utterly enraged at being told to stay home like a child.

"I DIED!" Harry barked, cutting him off. "And if I recall, so did you." Hurt, the words died on James's lips, and he gulped audibly as deafening silence filled the room. Harry, too, looked apprehensive, as if knowing he had gone too far.

Finally, Lily broke the awkward silence, squeezing her husband's hand tightly.

"You're right. We're not qualified. We weren't then, and we aren't now, and it cost us our lives. But thanks to that ritual, we are just as likely to die here in this room as we are out there, at your side."

Harry made to protest, but she silenced him with a raised hand.

"We're not qualified, but neither were you when you defeated him at seventeen. But you fought anyway, because you had a reason to fight. Harry, no one will ever be qualified to go into battle and look death in the face. There's no such thing as qualification for such a thing, and if you think there is, then you've been an auror for far too long." Harry flinched minutely, astonished by the truth in her words.

"We may be younger than you now, and we may have less experience, but our reason is the same now as it was then, and it is more than enough. You are our son, we died to protect you, and we died defenseless because it meant saving you. I would do it all over again to save you. But this time, I don't want to die without at least putting up a fight.

Don't take that away from me." Her quiet intensity radiated around the room.

Harry met her gaze, green eyes meeting their mirror. He knew that she, like he and James, was now reflecting on that terrible Halloween night, when their lives were taken from them with barely a struggle.

 _She's right. He too had died once, without putting up a fight. He wouldn't wish that on anyone, much less his own parents._ Harry thought to himself, reflecting on his walk through the forbidden forest. They all watched as James and Lily Potter awaited his response with bated breath.

Reluctantly, Harry nodded. "You'd better put up one Hell of a fight."

James grinned. "Wouldn't dream of doing anything else."

And with that, the room burst into action, preparing for the coming battle. Arthur quickly pulled Harry aside, slipping his wand into Harry's hand.

"I'm too old for this. You're going to need it." Arthur whispered before he could try and refuse. Harry nodded, meeting his father-in-law's eyes. He was glad Arthur had decided to stay behind. He couldn't lose two fathers today. Harry gave him a quiet, meaningful thank you, and strode from the room.

He would face Voldemort, one last time.


	40. Chapter 40

**I do not own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling:)**

 **BTW I am kinda taking creative liberties with this chapter concerning Voldemort's past. Just go with it? Thanks :)**

Chapter 40: Matilda, Henrick, and You-Know-Who

Astoria gasped, letting breath refill her lungs once more, desperate for air. Her hands trembled and shook, and her nerve endings were on fire. Her heart beat erratically, and she struggled to keep her eyes open.

"Do you want more, Mrs. Malfoy? Or have you had enough yet?" came the silky voice above her. An hour ago she would have spat in his face. But now, she no longer had the energy. Her nearly constant illness since Scorpius's birth had greatly fatigued her body, making her physically fragile and easily broken. Added to torture, and she doubted her body would ever recover.

But her will was as strong as ever.

"I'll never give it to you. Not without my family's freedom. And if you kill me, the locket will never open." Her voice was rough from screaming, her throat raw and burning. She looked her captor in the eye, and wiped the blood from her lips. She must have bitten her tongue, or the inside of her mouth, at some point.

Henrick Ollivander growled in frustration, surprised by her spirit. "Well, I suppose there is something to be admired about you after all." he spat, wiping sweat from his brow as he cast another cruciatus. The cell filled with her screams once more. The door behind him opened suddenly, and he turned his head to see who entered, without removing his curse. She continued to cry out, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, her body going rigid in agony. But his enjoyment of her pain had been greatly dampened by his irritation at her unwavering refusals to relinquish the Resurrection Stone.

Andrew Greengrass, her older brother, strode into the room, rolling up his sleeves as he did so. "I just returned from a raid, and I was told you had my sister. How did you manage it? I thought she was hiding out at Potter's still." he called loudly to be heard over her screams. Ollivander released the curse reluctantly, ignoring her gasping sobs as she retched.

Ollivander rolled his eyes. "She came to me, actually. I invited her here, to trade something for her husband's life."

"What!? The Dark Lord would never allow Malfoy to go free!"

"I know, you imbecile! But she wasn't to know that! And now I have two of the objects, but she refuses to give me the third." Ollivander hissed, glaring at the trembling form of the woman before him.

"She will die either way, I assume?"

"Obviously." Ollivander answered, turning back to face his comrade. "It isn't familial concern I hear from you, is it, Greengrass? She is a traitor – an affiliate of the Light side, and of Harry Potter. There is no place for weakness nor mercy for the likes of her."

"No! Of course not." Andrew answered quickly. "Your answer only confirmed my assumption of her utter stupidity. She could have saved herself a lot of pain if she had only been cooperative." His face reflected his disgust as he looked down upon her, blood and sick staining the stones beside her.

Ollivander seemed to measure him, scrutinizing the man beside him.

"Then here. You do it." He commanded quietly. Andrew flinched minutely, but withdrew his own wand from his robes, his eyes flicking back and forth between Ollivander and Astoria. Ollivander looked at him expectantly.

"Go on then, if you truly believe your own sister to be of so little worth…" Andrew grunted in disgust. After a moment of pause, he pointed his wand at her prone body. He drew a breath to perform the curse.

"Andrew." She whispered, causing him to hesitate. "Andy, please. Don't do this." Andrew's wand lowered slightly.

"No mercy, Greengrass." Ollivander hissed again. Andrew adjusted his grip, gulping audibly.

"Andy, please. Please, don't, Andy. I'm – I'm your baby sister. Your baby –" she rasped, her voice barely audible as she looked him in the eyes, her own hazel ones filling with tears that flowed freely down her cheeks. Her chocolate brown hair was matted in sweat and blood. She struggled to breath.

"Prove your loyalty, _Andy."_ Ollivander sneered. "And you will be rewarded beyond your greatest desires. _Now is your moment."_

"Crucio!" Andrew shouted, his eyes glinting in response to his youngest sister's blood-curdling screams. He didn't lift the curse, instead forcing more power into it, relishing in the pain he caused. Full minutes passed, and sweat beaded his brow as he refused to let up. Suddenly her screams reached a crescendo, her back arching and her body going rigid like it was going into shock. She seemed to convulse as if hit by a seizure. Then, her cries were abruptly cut off, and she collapsed, limp on the ground.

He lifted his wand, shocked by what he had done. He stepped closer, lowering two fingers to check the pulse on her neck. He nodded to Ollivander to indicate her flighty, but still beating heart. "My baby sister, are you? Perhaps you used to be, long ago. Now, you are only a filthy blood-traitor – a blemish to the Greengrass family. You're pathetic." He said coldly, returning to Ollivander's side.

"Well done, Andrew." Ollivander said. "I'll leave you to it, then. Awake her and continue, and tell me when she changes her mind." Andrew nodded, his face expressionless. Ollivander made for the door, but hesitated, turning back to the man behind him.

"Were you a Slytherin?" he asked.

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, curiosity." Andrew looked the older man in the eyes before sighing.

"No. The hat nearly placed me in Slytherin. But I was in Ravenclaw." Ollivander raised his eyebrows, though he didn't seem surprised.

Ollivander shut the door behind him, his footsteps echoing along the corridor. Andrew stared at his sister, her chest barely rising with each shallow breath. _She had always been so stubborn. Nothing could change her mind once she made it, ever since they were children._ Andrew could remember that about her, ever since she began making her own decisions. They had always disagreed, regardless of the topic. So lost was he in thought that he didn't even notice the door reopening behind him.

There was a flash of red, and his vision went black.

…

Ron Weasley sat in the small sitting room of Garrick Ollivander, patiently awaiting his response.

"Please understand, Mr. Weasley. I sought only to protect my family, just as you have done ever since your years as a Hogwarts student." Ollivander whispered, apprehensive. Ron nodded in assurance, indicating Ollivander begin his tale.

The old wand-maker seemed to gather his courage. Dawn was fast approaching, and for the first time, Garrick Ollivander was finally telling the truth about his beloved niece.

"Matilda's father was my great-nephew, Olrich Ollivander. Her mother was Xanthia Lovegood. Xanthia died giving birth to Matilda, and Olrich couldn't bear it. Like father like daughter, many said."

"Like father, like… So Olrich also committed suicide?" Ron started.

Ollivander sighed tiredly. "Yes, Olrich committed suicide, and Harolde, Xanthia's brother, adopted his niece as a baby. I would have been willing to adopt her, I loved her so. But I knew Harolde could offer her a better life - one with a father and mother, even a brother, as Xenophilius became. But we were very close, all while she grew up." Ollivander paused, as if lost in memory. A quiet grunt from Ron shook him from his thoughts, and Ollivander continued.

"It was near the end of Matilda's seventh year in Hogwarts when she got pregnant. She had known the baby's father for some time, though he had already graduated, and was working in a small shop. She was under the impression that she and the baby's father would "live happily ever after" if you'll pardon the cliché, despite his many attempts to convince her otherwise. Never had she been so wrong. The baby's father utterly rejected the child, and tried to convince her to get rid of it. She refused, which made him very angry.

At one point, she told me he tried to poison her in order to kill the baby. He would have succeeded had Matilda's friend, Eileen Prince, not recognized the poison, and saved her life. That wasn't the only attempt the father made. He was… cruel. He even used the unforgiveables in an effort to destroy her and her child, and Matilda became very ill with the constant stress of it all."

At this, Ollivander paused, lost in memory of the horror that had befallen his niece.

In desperation, Matilda reached out to Eileen. With Eileen's help, they enacted a ritual – one very old and very dark, that would tie their lives together."

Suddenly, an otter patronus zipped into the room, and Hermione's voice echoed, the seriousness in her tone contrasting painfully with the Otter's naturally playful disposition.

"Ron! Return to the house immediately. We are about to discover Voldemort's location, and Harry expects you and Ginny to lead the Order while we call up the aurors. Wherever you are, come home now!"

The otter disappeared, and Ron's wide eyes remained rooted to the spot it previously resided. Ollivander was pale.

"Well, I suppose you'd best return." He said thinly. Ron met the old man's eyes, reluctance and uncertainty in his shoulders.

"Wait. Who was the father?" Ron asked urgently.

"Oh, is it really so important?" Ollivander asked, not meeting Ron's eye.

"Yes, I think it is." He insisted. Ollivander hesitated again, and took a deep breath.

"Tom Riddle."

Ron nodded, confirming his suspicions.

"Before I go, I need you to tell me about the ritual. What did Matilda do to tie her life to Voldemort?"


	41. Chapter 41

**I do not own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling**

 **Happy September 1st! I can't believe it's 19 years since the Battle of Hogwarts!**

 **... Or in the case of my story, 17 years later ;)**

 **Thank you over and over again for all of your support and love that you've shown me and my story:) Please review and let me know how its going! Love you all!**

 **And without further ado...**

Chapter 41: The Middle of the End

Astoria stirred slowly, groaning as the tremors and pains returned full-fledged.

"Tori? Tori, wake up!"

Astoria's eyes flew open, and she gasped in shock. She was expecting to be lying on a cold, stone floor, but was surprised to feel warm. She was in someone's arms, holding her tightly.

"Tori? Oh, thank Merlin you're alright. I thought they had killed you!" Came the voice again, somewhat familiar.

"Theo?" she rasped, her throat burning and swollen from screaming. "Theo, what – what are you doing here? If they find you helping me, they'll – they'll kill you!" She rocked slightly as his chest moved with deep breaths.

"Yeah, they might yet. But I couldn't bear it if something happened to you, Astoria." Said Theodore Nott quietly. His voice was sorrowful. "C'mon, we've got to go, before Ollivander or someone else comes by." He handed her a wand – her brother's wand.

"How? How did…?"

"No time for that now. Can you walk?" He began lifting her to her feet, and she gasped in pain as tremors wracked her frame. She would have collapsed if he hadn't been holding her.

"Alright then, I've got you." With that, he lifted her into his arms. "It's up to you to curse anyone that comes by then." Astoria smiled a little at that, and nodded as they walked out into the hallway.

"Where's Draco?" she asked.

"He's a couple floors down." He answered, hesitating before speaking again. "Listen, Astoria. I think it would be better if I just got you out first. I could take you to the edge of the wards, and then I could come back –"

"No! He is coming with us. That was the whole point of me coming here!"

"The point!? The point was to let yourself be tortured to death!?" He said harshly. Another groan escaped Astoria's lips as they began descending the stairs, steadily inching their way along and listening for footsteps.

"Henrick told me he would trade Draco's life for the Hallows."

"Yes, I know. But when I gave you that message, I didn't think you would actually come here personally! You should have let me help you." Theodore's hushed anger was radiating off him, but at these words Astoria's pain was replaced by her own incredulous rage.

"Put me down."

"What!?"

"Put me down, Theo. I don't need your help, and you made it abundantly clear you weren't willing to give it the last time we spoke." She hissed, trying to keep her voice down. His face dropped in shame, as he too remembered that moment, barely two weeks ago in the Malfoy home.

"Fine." He snapped. He lowered her to the ground, and she immediately reached for the wall to support herself, ashamed as her knees shook and her legs nearly gave way beneath her. Theodore rolled his eyes as he watched her struggle, refusing his outstretched arms. "What do you expect to do, Astoria? Crawl there? You don't even know where he's being kept!"

"If I have to I will!" She slapped his hands away and took a hesitant step forward, gasping in pain as her bones seemed to burn like they were on fire.

"Dammit, Tori! Just let me help you!"

"Oh, like you've helped Draco? He's been here for nearly two weeks, and what have you done to help him? Why should helping me now be any different to the help he's needed since you both felt your marks burn?"

"Because I love you, for Merlin's sake!" Astoria gasped as Theodore grabbed her shoulders roughly, shaking her with exasperation. "Have you forgotten my feelings for you?" he whispered, loosening his grip on her, though still continuing to support her weak body as they stood there on the steps.

"If you truly love someone, then you should want them to be happy. Draco makes me happy, and you've let him rot here, in pain and fear. Yours is a selfish love, Theo." He was visibly disappointed by her response, but he didn't argue the fact. Instead, in surrender he reached out his hands once more.

"You know you can't make it out of here without me, and I'll make sure Draco gets out too. I promise." He said quietly, his ears straining for the sounds of guards. She nodded, and allowed him to pick her up again, secretly grateful as she wasn't sure she could have stood for much longer.

Finally, Theodore and Astoria peered around the corner at the two guards in front of Draco's cell. He let Astoria down gently, and she leant heavily on him. "Ready?" he asked. She nodded, and together, they stepped around the corner and stupefied both guards at once, lowering them to the ground softly to avoid a loud crash. They inched quietly to the door, one arm around her waist.

"Alohamora." Theodore whispered, and the cell door swung open. Astoria rushed inside, and fell to her husband's side with a cry of relief. He stirred as she tried to turn him over, her hands reaching for his hair to brush it out of his pale face.

"Draco? Draco, it's me!" she cried, pleading for him to open his eyes. Finally, blue met hazel, and she kissed him hastily, allowing him time for his daze and confusion to clear.

"Astoria?" he rasped, his throat scratchy from disuse.

"Yes! Yes, I'm here. I've come to take you home, darling! You must get up, we haven't got much time." She stressed, reaching for his hands and pulling him into a sitting position. He grimaced, his sore body protesting.

Vaguely she could sense Theodore behind her levitating the guard's unconscious bodies into the cell and closing the door behind them, in case anyone should pass by. Draco's vision cleared as he looked at her, and he let out a gust of relief, his own hands finding her face, like a blind man would to recognize a long-lost friend.

"It's really you? How are you here?" he asked, as if still in disbelief.

"No time for that now, Draco. We've got to get out of here. Do you still have your telesol?" she asked.

"I – I, yes. Yes, Ollivander gave it back to me. But I don't know where we are. They obliviated me almost first thing so I couldn't tell anyone."

"Well it's a good thing _I_ know where we are." She replied as she removed the necklace and placed it over her own head.

"What good would it do, to tell them where we are?" Theodore hissed in irritation and impatience. "They can't apparate here! How are you even _able_ to tell them anything!?"

"This place isn't under the fidelius charm - that's light magic, and Voldemort doesn't use it." Draco replied, exasperated. "He didn't even use it when he was living at Malfoy Manor; I think he finds it beneathe him. No fool would dare enter his fortress except his followers."

"Except Harry Potter." Astoria finished, twisting the triangle three times. "And fools like us." she muttered, noting the quiet and small smile that appeared on Draco's face at their own stupidity. With a tremor, she immediately felt the connection come alive in her hands.

 _Scorpius? Scorpius, darling, are you there?_

No response.

 _Scorpius! Answer me this instant!_ She waited with bated breath, before she felt the presence of someone's consciousness. But it was not her son's. It was someone completely alien, like a stranger… and then he spoke.

….

Ron rushed through the front door, shouting for Harry and Hermione as he did so. His mind was reeling from what Ollivander had told him, his breaths coming in pants.

"Ron? Where have you been!?" Ginny cried as she met him in the hall, dragging him towards the dining room.

Ron suddenly came face to face with a dozen Order members, all murmuring loudly; the entire room rippling with agitation. "What's happened!? I got a patronus from Hermione – something about Voldemort's location?"

"After you left, Astoria attacked us. She stole the Hallows, and -" Ginny began.

"WHAT!?"

"Astoria took the Hallows, and –"

"Bloody Merlin's third -!"

"RON! If you'll shut up and let me finish -!"

"So where's Voldemort? Does he have the hallows?!"

"Oh, for the love of – "

Ron stared at his little sister in shock, his already overloaded mind seemingly unable to process more information. Ginny's explanations went in one ear and out the other as nothing but a buzzing was heard. His sister, realizing the total lack of comprehension growled in annoyance, and grabbed her brother's hand in an effort to at least drag him to a corner that was quieter.

They strode through the crowd, and Ginny soon lost the battle as questions were fired at her from all sides.

"Alright, enough!" she snapped, releasing Ron and leaping up onto a chair. "Can I get everyone's attention, please?" she tried, irritated as only more questions and concerns were shouted at her.

"QUIET!" she bellowed. They all silenced immediately. "Bloody Hell. We're still waiting on a few members, but I know you all have questions. I will do my best to be quick, as we could receive word any moment concerning the whereabouts of Voldemort and his Risen Followers. Here is what you need to know…"

As Ginny explained what had happened – Astoria's attack, the revealed connection she had with Draco by use of a necklace, the drugging of his family and thievery of Harry's wand - Ron's blood began to boil. As did those around him. The entire Order was bellowing with rage, all swearing vengeance on Astoria Malfoy.

Ron looked around at those gathered. His brothers were there – Bill, George, Charlie, as well as Fleur. Angelina and Audrey were missing, and he assumed them to be with the kids, and Percy, who he assumed was at the ministry. He ached to see Rose and Hugo. It seemed like an eternity now since he had kissed them goodnight and sent them to bed, even though it had only been a few hours.

Bill seemed to be arguing with Fleur, Victoire and Teddy Lupin, his voice barely loud enough to be heard above all the commotion. It seemed Victoire and Teddy both wanted to come against Fleur's wishes, and all three going were against Bill's wishes.

Lee and Katie, Oliver Wood, Neville, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnigan were all huddled together, deep in discussion about the attack on Hannah, as well as many other order members ever since the demands.

"Bloody Hell." Ron swore, unable to focus on all the new information he had received in just the last hour alone, much less what Ginny just explained. As Ginny continued to do her best to calm those gathered and answer questions to the best of her ability, without revealing the hallows, Ron sought a moment of solitude and quiet to organize his thoughts.

He walked into the kitchen, the commotion dying down to a small din as he shut the door firmly behind him. His mind buzzed, and he closed his eyes a moment.

"Ronald. Where have you been?" came a soft voice. His eyes snapped open to find Scorpius Malfoy sitting on the floor in the corner, wrapped in Molly's arms. His eyes were red and his nose was runny, the sharp points of the sign of the hallows twisting in and out in his hand.

Ron shook his head, unsure of how to answer his mother's question. The information regarding Henrick Ollivander and Voldemort was still of utmost importance, and yet he didn't know what to do, or how to address it. The information was more than likely completely useless, anyway! Ron looked again at the pair huddled on the kitchen floor, leaning against the cupboards. Huffing, he chose to focus on the small boy in his mother's arms.

"I'm sure your mum will be fine, Scorpius. She's obviously pretty scrappy, considering she took out seven war veterans in one go." he smiled in an effort to lighten the boy's mood. He picked up a nearby tea kettle, desperate for something to do. Scorpius ignored him, and instead held the trinket tightly, the telesol nearly hidden from view in his small fist, his thin piano fingers white knuckled.

"That one's got sleeping potion in it. I suggest you use the other one." Molly said, indicating the kettle in Ron's hand.

"Right…" Ron followed her advice, setting the stove alight and fetching the smaller kettle. "So, when did Harry and Hermione leave?" Ron asked, looking back at his mother and the child. His eyebrows creased as he looked at Scorpius, noticing the utter lack of emotion on the boy's pale face. He seemed so lost in thought – but not as if he were conversing with someone through the necklace. More like he was drowning in his own mind.

"Oh, barely an hour ago. They've gone to call up all able-bodied witches and wizards willing to fight. Even the department heads are involved regardless of which department they run." Molly answered. "I think Harry figures if we're not so outnumbered like at Hogwarts, maybe we won't... you know, maybe there will be less..." Molly's eyes shone with the memories of that day, and she gulped audibly.

"Less deaths?" Ron finished for her, pulling some mugs out of the cupboard, trying to stay busy so as to avoid getting lost in his own memories. Molly nodded, looking away from both boys and dotting her eyes with a lacy handkerchief pulled from her sleeve. Scorpius seemed to pale even further at their conversation.

"Hey, kid, um, you want tea?" Ron asked in an effort to draw him out. Scorpius's hand clenched on the necklace with renewed vigor, and Ron watched as blood began to seep through the boy's fingers.

Scorpius looked down at his hand blankly as drops of blood fell to the floor.

"Hey, Scorpius…" Ron said when Scorpius didn't react. "Your – your hand… Scorpius!" Ron's eyes widened as Scorpius ignored him completely, instead shutting his eyes and seizing the trinket all the more harshly. The scrape of the triangle's points was audible, slicing his fingers open even more. Molly, alarmed by Ron's tone, looked down at the boy in her arms.

"Oh, my dear you've cut yourself!" Molly tutted. She tried to pull his fingers away from the necklace, but instead of releasing it and letting it fall harmlessly to his chest, he only gripped the pendant harder, further cutting his hand.

"Scorpius! Scorpius, stop!" Molly cried, tugging at him. He only pulled further away from her, crushing the trinket. Drops of bleed turned to streams from between his fingers.

Ron instantly fell to his knees and gripped Scorpius' shoulders tightly, preventing him from moving any further away from Molly. He continued to struggle, fighting against him fruitlessly. The cuts were now extending to his palms.

"Let me go!" Scorpius screamed, the sound barely human.

"Stop it! Scorpius, stop!" Ron bellowed as the boy kicked out at him. Finally, Ron wrapped his arms around him, hugging Scorpius to his chest. Scorpius's arms faced outward towards Molly, and he began to yell with frustration, bucking against Ron, who switched tactics, moving one arm around the boys torso, and the other hand gripped Scorpius' right wrist.

Despite the boy's small size compared to Ron, it was with much effort that he and Molly finally released the trinket from his grasp, pulling the necklace over the boy's head and throwing it to the floor. The deep cuts bled from Scorpius's fingers and palms, snaking their way down his arms and creating pools of blood on the kitchen floor. With one last enraged shout, Scorpius fell limp in Ron's arms, breathing heavily. He had utterly exhausted himself, and tears now flowed down his pale face.

"Oh, oh, you poor thing." She whispered, and Ron released him into her arms. "You mustn't, Scorpius, oh, you mustn't blame yourself." Her quiet murmurings turned incoherent as she rocked him, summoning the vile of dittany from a nearby cupboard with her wand.

Scorpius's eyes were closed, and this time he didn't fight as Molly reached for his hand to apply a few drops of the healing salve. Other than his surrender, he refused to acknowledge either Ron or Molly's presence. Ron looked on helplessly, useless in the face of the boy's grief. It was as if Scorpius already assumed both his parents were dead, and that it was his fault.

Ron's mind suddenly recalled similar times in the face of his own family's grief over Fred, and Harry's grief over Sirius, Dumbledore, and Remus. As he watched his mother and Scorpius, he became lost remembering Fred's funeral.

 _Ron and Harry were asked to go to the kitchen to retrieve some more rolls for the attendees of Fred's funeral. As they walked through the door, they saw George, all alone, his face blank. It wasn't exactly surprising to see George like this; he had been nearly catatonic since Fred's death._

 _"Hey, George. We were just, erm… getting more rolls…" Ron began. George ignored him as if he didn't even notice the two boys standing there._

 _Ron walked forward and reached for the bread, but was shocked when, in a sudden burst of anger and misery, George grabbed the pan of rolls and threw them at the wall. He then grabbed cups and plates, anything within reach, and began crashing them to the ground, howling in rage, not even noticing the numerous cuts forming all over his fingers and arms as the glassware shattered and ricocheted._

 _Ron had tried to rush forward to help, only to be held back by none other than Harry._

 _"He's just got to let it out, mate! Everyone has to at some point, and hopefully he won't hurt himself too badly." Harry had said. Harry turned and cast a silencing charm on the kitchen door, lest anyone outside hear George's grief-stricken outburst._

 _"But why like this? He'll hurt himself!" Ron frantically cried, flinching as he continued to watch George throw more mugs, one narrowly missing Ron's head. It was as if George didn't even see the two of them standing in the room with him, so possessed was he with his inner demons. Harry dragged Ron to the edge of the room, farthest away from the lonely twin._

" _We're all grieving. No one else is doing this!" Ron exclaimed._

 _Harry had looked at him with a hollow expression, as if lost in his own memories before replying. "It's just guilt. It eats away at you, and you feel like you deserve the pain."_

 _"Guilt? But it's not George's fault. He doesn't have anything to feel guilty for!" Ron whispered back, blanching as George's blood smeared on the countertops as more gut-wrenching yells escaped him._

 _"I know. But you've got to make sure he knows it, too." Harry replied quietly, his eyes clouding over once more, trapped in his own thoughts. With that, Harry had exited the kitchen, and George slid down the wall, utterly exhausted, his chest heaving as sobs wracked his body. Ron had taken Harry's advice, and sat with his brother on the kitchen floor for nearly an hour, doing his best to assure George that it wasn't his fault._

 _Throughout those first few weeks after the war, nearly every Weasley had some sort of breakdown, though none were as violent as George's had been. Harry, too, eventually broke down after weeks of his own guilt-ridden nightmares. Ron had given Ginny the same advice Harry had given him weeks earlier, and then left her to it. Only Ginny could convince him that all those who had died fighting against Voldemort had not been his fault._

Ron looked down at the small, blonde boy in the corner, his face impassive and lost as Molly dropped dittany on his hand.

"My mums right." Ron suddenly said, swallowing hard. "Whatever happens tonight, it's not your fault. You understand that, don't you?"

Scorpius met his eyes, his eyebrows deeply creased – in pain or self-loathing, Ron was unsure. But at least he finally had the boy's attention. "Do you hear me, Scorpius? You are not to blame. Whatever happens tonight, you must always remember that. Do you understand?"

Scorpius took a moment, then slowly nodded, biting his lip.

"You promise to remember that?"

Again, Scorpius nodded his head. Closing his eyes, he let the tears fall, and burrowed his face in Molly's arms. Molly nodded to her son in gratitude, wrapping the hands in conjured bandages. Ron half-smiled, half-grimaced as he went to retrieve the telesol on the ground, cleaning the blood from the floor and the trinket with his wand.

They sat in silence, the only sound that of Scorpius' sobs that eventually died down. Exhausted, he fell asleep against Molly's side. Ron held the necklace in his hand, unsure of whether to give it back to Scorpius, for fear he would hurt himself again.

Suddenly, it seemed to pulse, and a vibration went up Ron's arm. He looked at it in shock. _What the -?_ He jumped as it pulsed once again, and Ron realized what was happening. _This is it!_ He thought, apprehension tickling its way up his spine. Molly noticed his reaction, and gasped as he placed the necklace over his head.

 _Scorpius! Answer me this instant!_ The words vibrated in his mind, as if the owner of the voice were standing right next to him, and yet there was an odd echoing to the voice.

"Astoria? Erm, I mean…" _Astoria? Is that you?_

…..

Molly Weasley watched in shock as her son placed the necklace over his head, speaking Astoria's name and closing his eyes in concentration. _This is it!_ She thought frantically. She waited with bated breath, watching the many expressions cross her son's features at whatever conversation he was now having.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes and looked up, meeting her own. "Nurmengard." He whispered, "three-quarters mile," before closing his eyes once again in concentration.

With a yelp, Molly jumped to her feet, startling Scorpius horribly as she rushed out of the kitchen and into the neighboring dining room. The room was filled with Order members – at least a dozen were murmuring and pacing, their hands on their wands. No one seemed to notice her arrival.

"IT'S HAPPENING!" she bellowed. Ginny suddenly appeared at her side and the room fell silent as the grave, all listening for news.

"Do we have a location?" she demanded.

"Nurmengard." Molly replied.

"How far?"

"Three-quarters mile away." A steely determination appeared on Ginny's face, and her wand was instantly in her hand.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Ginny roared, and a great silvery horse erupted from the tip of her wand. "Nurmengard. Three-quarters mile." Ginny said, then flicked her head in dismissal. The horse took off, disappearing after a few feet as it traveled instantly to its caster's intended recipient.

They all waited with bated breath at what seemed an eternity. One minute turned to five, and then to ten, as they awaited Harry's message of action. Finally, a flash of bright, gold light filled the room as if a star had exploded in their midst. A large ball the size of a quaffle appeared in the center.

"GO!" Ginny bellowed, and as one the Order of the Phoenix each placed a finger on the portkey. In less than five seconds, it was gone, leaving a worried Molly and Arthur Weasley alone in the room. She clutched her hands together as if in silent prayer, and her husband held her tightly, his whitening hair like snow in her blurry vision.

Too old now to fight, they could only wait with their grandchildren, praying their family returned safely.

 **A/N - I know it is taking ridiculously long as a reader to get to the actual action of the battle! Ugh, my apologies, there's just so many people involved and so many perspectives! Each has their own story and role to play... but we'll get there!**

 **Here's a little teaser to keep you until I next post:) which shouldn't be too long, I promise!**

 _"You could have killed me back there, at the house, but you didn't. You could have saved yourself a lot of pain, but you didn't. You saved my life, now I'm saving yours!" Astoria could only stare at Lily, her pale face flushed with emotion as she continued to struggle against Astoria's uncooperative grip._

 _Suddenly, both women ceased their struggling, and their eyes widened in fear as a dark shadow loomed in their peripherals. Both women turned their heads in shock as Lord Voldemort descended from the top of the high tower down to the ground below._

 ** _Here comes the action... ;) Love you! Please Review!_**


	42. Chapter 42

**Thank you again for your reviews and support! And in response to how Harry is using a wand in the last chapter and this chapter, considering his holly wand was taken as was the Elder Wand… never fear! It is explained** **Thank you for your attention to details! I always had it explained in this chapter, but I realize it would have been so much easier for the reader if I had just done it last time. So I have edited chapter 39 just slightly (the very last couple paragraphs) to make up for it. But if you just continue reading in this chapter, it will be made clear:)  
**

 **As usual, I don't own Harry Potter, nor any of its characters. That privilege belongs only to the lovely JK Rowling.**

 **Now, on we go!**

Chapter 42: Plan of Action

 _Astoria? Is that you?_

 _Ron Weasley? What are you doing? Where is Scorpius?_ She could hear Theodore behind her, muttering and pacing in agitation.

"We haven't got time! Let's go!" he growled. She ignored him. She may very well die before she left this place, and she would say goodbye to her son before she did, and she would tell Ron Weasley their location so Harry Potter could know where the Dark Lord resided. Ron's voice sounded in her head.

 _Scorpius is fine, Mrs. Malfoy. Have you got Draco?_

 _Yes! Yes, he's right here, but we're still in the fortress –_

 _Fortress? What fortress? Where are you?! Tell me and I can send Harry there immediately with aurors and order members to rescue you._

 _Nurmengard! We're at Nurmengard!_ There was a pause as Ron processed that information.

 _As in Grindewald's prison?_

 _Yes! There are wards, though. You'll have to apparate to at least three quarters mile outside of the grounds in order to enter and not be detected._

Suddenly, footsteps were heard coming up the stairs. Theodore cursed under his breath, and Draco moved to place himself in front her, blocking her from view.

 _Someone's coming! I've got to go! Please, tell Scorpius –_

 _Wait! Astoria, do you still have the Hallows!?_ Her breathing quickened as whoever was coming up the stairs reached the cell doors.

"What the Hell? Where are the guards!? Malfoy is to be guarded day and night!" came a very familiar voice. Henrick Ollivander was just outside the door, probably on his way back to Astoria's cell only a few floors above to continue with what he had started.

 _It's Ollivander! He's discovered us! Please, tell Scorpius –_ Again, Ron cut her off.

 _Ollivander? Henrick Ollivander?_

"Avery! Where are you? What the Hell is going on!?" Ollivander growled angrily.

 _Astoria! Please, do you still have the Hallows!? What have you done with them!?_ Ron's voice was panicked, and Astoria's own heart was beating rapidly. She thought for sure it would beat out of her chest as thoughts of the recent hours of torture began filling her mind, fear overwhelming her at the thought of continuing to protect the stone against Ollivander.

 _He's tortured you? Because you still have the stone?_ Ron's voice pierced through her thoughts, and she realized he had seen all that was passing through her head.

The door swung open, and Theodore reacted, shooting a stunning spell at Ollivander the moment he stepped inside. Ollivander roared and barely managed to deflect it, disarming Theodore quickly. Theodore rushed at him, fists flailing, but was only thrown back with a lazy flick of the man's wand.

Ollivander quickly sent a binding spell at Theodore, who could only struggle against his bonds fruitlessly. He turned his cold eyes to the Malfoys; Draco shielding Astoria behind himself, arms flung wide to try and block her from view.

Astoria fingered her wand behind Draco's back, a curse on her lips –

 _Wait!_ Ron's voice sounded again, loudly in her mind. She hesitated. _Let me speak to him. Trust me._

Astoria's eyes widened as Ollivander noticed the telesol around her neck.

"Well, well, and who have you been speaking to, my dear?" he hissed. "Who have you revealed our location to, you stupid bitch!?" He glared at the two Malfoys, his right hand reaching towards his left to pull up his sleeve, touching his wand to the gruesome tattoo on the inside of his forearm.

The smell of burning flesh reached Astoria's nostrils, but her mind was preoccupied. _He's called the rest of the followers! They'll be here any moment!_

 _Give him the necklace! Trust me!_

 _What!?_ Astoria asked, struggling to keep focus on both the advancing Ollivander, and Ron Weasley.

 _Just do it!_ Astoria hesitated, but finally lowered her wand, hiding it in her robes.

"Ron Weasley wishes to speak with you." She said from behind Draco's back, sounding more confident than she felt. Ollivander stopped his advance.

"Pardon?" he asked, skeptically.

"He has the other telesol. He says... he says he knows your mother wasn't a suicide." Ollivander's shock was evident. Of all the things he was expecting to hear, this wasn't it. His curiosity was evident, warring against his better judgement. After a moment that felt like an eternity, he seemed to come to a decision.

"Toss it here." He demanded.

 _Tell Scorpius I love him. Whatever happens, please make sure he's cared for…_ Astoria said. She never heard Ron's response, instead lifting the necklace over her head and tossing the thin golden chain and trinket. She watched as Ollivander placed it over his head.

 _Henrick Ollivander?_ Came the voice of the famous redhead in his ears.

 _So… Mr. Ronald Weasley, the other one - friend to the great Harry Potter and spouse of the celebrated Hermione Granger-Weasley. Though you, yourself, have no reason to be celebrated at all…_ Ollivander sneered.

Ron ignored the jibe, instead responding with, _I know what happened to your mum. I know she didn't commit suicide._

 _Is that so?_

 _Yeah._ Suddenly, Ollivander's mind was filled with flashes of a memory, as if he had been immersed in a penseive. He saw his Uncle Garrick Ollivander as he explained the truth behind his mother's death.

Henrick Ollivander went pale as the tale unfolded, and then became flushed with anger. The memory came to a close, and he shuddered involuntarily. Ron's voice whispered through the clouded darkness of his mind.

 _You are linked with the Dark Lord, Mr. Ollivander. Your very lives depend on each other._

 _Are you trying to tell me that by resurrecting the Dark Lord, my own father, I have in effect_ _assured my own fate?_

 _If your fate is to die alongside that bastard, then yeah, you've most definitely assured it._ Ron's voice was full of venom. _And now, you're out of time_.

He came to himself, looking into the faces of the Malfoys, only to be flung back by a powerful curse cast by Astoria. He hit the wall thunderously, and all went dark.

…

The silver horse appeared in the midst of nearly fifty witches and wizards, silencing the loud yells and barely controlled chaos that was the auror department.

"Nurmengard." Came the voice of Ginny Weasley, and Harry immediately raised one hand to silence the reactions to this revelation. "Three quarters mile." and the horse vanished. Before the pandemonium could reign, Harry touched a wand to his throat.

"Sonorous." He muttered. "SILENCE! NO ONE MOVE. I NEED ALL DEPARTMENT HEADS AND NECESSARY MINISTRY OFFICIALS IN MY OFFICE IMMEDIETELY. UNTIL WE RETURN, NO ONE LEAVES THIS DEPARTMENT!" Harry bellowed, the sound reverberating off the walls. The group gawked at him, but obeyed.

Harry strode quickly to his office, accompanied by nearly a dozen other wizards, including Hermione, Kingsley and Percy.

"Why can't we leave?" came a quiet question.

"Because," Dennis Creevey said boldly, "he doesn't want any spies to go and inform Voldemort that we know his location." He said darkly, meeting the eyes of those around him. He then walked stiffly to the department elevators, just as Eleanor Jones strode to the Apparition points, essentially blocking the exits. "And I don't intend to let anyone out of my sight."

A hush fell on the onlookers, and quietly they awaited the door to Harry Potter's office to open, and reveal their plan of action.

Inside his office, Harry placed his hands flat against the table, eyes boring into the blueprints of Nurmengard that had been hastily brought up by Percy.

 _This place looks impenetrable…_ He thought wearily as his brother-in-law twirled his wand, creating a silver 3D image of the building, standing tall and foreboding on the table in the center of the room.

"Three quarters mile puts us here, the only field large enough to apparate. As soon we appear, we can seek cover in the trees." Came a deep voice beside him, and Harry looked up to see Kingsley Shacklebolt, his ringed fingers tapping the table.

Harry nodded in agreement, his focus switching to the building itself, noting the single door standing as the entrance, in or out. The heavy stonework and large, wrought iron-gate, created one hell of a stronghold.

"Dawson, bring me that list again." Harry said, extending his hand without looking away from the blueprints. A piece of parchment was placed in his outstretched fingers, and Harry looked at it briefly, his eyes flickering over the many names written.

"We have to hope that at least half of these missing persons are being held prisoner – likely being tortured for information, but still alive. We have to maintain our element of surprise to ensure the prisoners aren't killed."

"Potter." Kingsley said calmly, eyeing the younger man beside him cautiously. "You must remember who we are fighting. There have already been hundreds of casualties in the brief time Voldemort has returned. We can't save everyone." He said the last statement in almost a whisper, but it was heard around the room as the seven or so department heads and necessary ministry officials crowded around the large table.

Harry stilled, and took a deep breath, nodding in acknowledgement. Hermione broke the tense silence.

"Once we discover the extent of the wards, even if we are able to apparate and move towards the perimeter of the building, we'll be like sitting ducks if they see us coming. It may even spook them enough to barricade themselves inside the building, which will result in exactly what Harry just said." Hermione stated, moving closer to inspect the stronghold.

"So, we use some sort of cloaking charm?" MacLaggen asked.

"If I were You-Know-Who, I would definitely have a finite charm or ward to block that sort of thing." Percy said, a bit condescendingly.

"Well excuse me for not being able to think _like a dark lord._ " Responded MacLaggen defensively.

"Enough." Harry said sternly, and a hush fell immediately. "Percy is right, but a cloaking spell can't hurt, either. We'll do both, and get as far as possible _."_ Harry met each of the eyes around him.

The room nodded in assent, and Harry returned his focus to the large image before him. He instructed Percy to change the perspective and move away from the building, looking at the grounds and the thick forests surrounding the cliffside. As he did so, continued murmuring buzzed around the room. Harry ignored it, his eyes narrowing. He stood back, seeming to have come to a decision.

"Right. With as many witches and wizards as we've gathered already, I've no doubt we will at least match the number of Risen Followers. We might even outnumber them. Despite the large casualties already taken in this war, Voldemort's return has been brief, and his followers are still few, compared to us."

"And unlike last time," added Kingsley, "We are not broken and afraid, but united." The room voiced their agreement, and Harry acknowledged it graciously.

"Exactly. With the Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry of Magic fighting alongside each other, along with the element of surprise, we have good odds. But we must be careful. Like Hermione said, we don't want to be like sitting ducks, and we don't want to foolishly overestimate our abilities. We may have a bit more to our ranks, but they are more brutal with their use of dark magic and curses." Harry continued. "It will be a close fight, but one we are sure to win." The group nodded in agreement, motivated grins on their faces.

"Alright, we do as the Minister suggested. We apparate here, disillusion ourselves as best we can, and move forward cautiously. I'll have a group of aurors come from the side, here." Harry pointed to another section of land, far to the west. "They will be under invisibility cloaks, and they will be tasked with reaching the fortress sooner than the rest of us. They will enter the fortress and take care of what guards are inside of it. They'll ward against any Risen Followers trying to reenter the fortress, preventing any sort of hostage situation. We want all the Risen Followers outside, on the grounds, so we can engage in a proper battle."

"And what about the anti-travel wards? How are we supposed to get the prisoners to safety?" McClaggen asked.

"Apparition wards may be too difficult to lower in the small amount of time we have, but perhaps travel wards can be lowered to at least help prisoners escape via portkey. My men will also be tasked with saving as many captives as possible." Harry looked around the room, confirming that he had been understood, and that there were no questions.

"What about You-Know-Who?" Dawson asked quietly, and a ripple of fear went around the room. "Even if we outnumber his supporters, we will still have to defeat _him."_ They waited for Harry's reply, waves of anxiety and fear, pulsing.

"What about him?" Harry asked slowly, looking each of them squarely in the eyes. They flinched, startled by his response.

"No, really, what about him?" Harry asked again, tensely. "He is a man, just like you and me. He's died before, and he will die again."

Eyes lowered, uneasy.

"Oh, just learn to say his bloody name, and get the hell over it!" Hermione suddenly snapped, her gaze steely. "Like Harry said, he is flesh and bone, not some phantom or mystical creature. Only cowardice will let him win." The faces around her varied in response, some with guilt, others with determination.

Harry nodded firmly, grateful to Hermione and those willing to fight alongside him against the Dark Lord. He looked at his watch. Nearly five minutes had already passed since receiving Ginny's patronus, and it was time to move.

"Ransin, bring me the portkey. Then tell Creevey to come here with Jones, Anderson, Jackson, Smith, and Milson." The man nodded, leaving the room quickly as Percy cancelled the Nurmengard blueprints.

Harry exited the office, taking the large quaffle sized ball that was handed to him. He performed the intricate and multilayered spell that would transport the portkey to Ginny, and then transport the Order to the field outside of Nurmengard. When he finished, the portkey vanished with a flash, and Harry turned to see Dennis Creevey had arrived with the other aurors he had asked for.

Harry quickly and quietly explained the task charged to them with opening and maintaining the fortress entrance. They each quickly gathered one of the few invisibility cloaks provided to the department, and strode to the apparition point without another word.

Harry was pleased to see the fifty or so gathered witches and wizards were all taking to the apparition points as well. Harry took a deep breath, steadying himself and gripping Arthur Weasley's borrowed wand. It was too calm in his hand, as if its long life had resulted in no longer being surprised by anything.

His own Holly wand had buzzed with life every time he was about to enter battle, and the Elder Wand had trembled and jumped, enthused by the rush and excitement, like a bloodlust. Harry took another deep breath, preparing for what was about to happen.

Barely more than an hour earlier, he had stood in the dining room with his family, arguing with his parents.

" _You'd better put up one hell of a fight." He said._

" _Wouldn't dream of doing anything else." James responded, grinning. Then, Harry took Arthur's offered wand with great appreciation, knowing the sacrifice it was to give up one's wand._

 _"Harry." Ginny whispered urgently, taking his hand and leading him from the room._

 _"I don't suppose I can convince you to stay?" Harry asked her as they stood in the hallway. Ginny only smiled._

 _"Not a chance. Not this time." She said determinedly. Harry sighed, and made to put on his cloak, tucking away Arthur's wand on his wrist holster. His mind was reeling, so full of emotion and confusion, he could barely think straight as he walked towards the front door._

 _"Wait." Ginny said, reaching for his hand again. Ginny suggested he at least say a proper goodbye to his parents, but he had refused. Harry had said goodbye to his parents already on multiple occasions throughout his childhood, and the thought of doing it now was unbearable._

 _Harry could still remember the advice spoken to him by Dumbledore in front of the Mirror of Erised when he was eleven. "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live," he had said, and Harry had obeyed him. That was the first time Harry had said goodbye to his parents, resolving never to go looking for the mirror again._

 _The second time had been in the forbidden forest, with the Resurrection Stone in his hand. The third, though it hadn't exactly been done face to face, was when Harry made the decision not to take the train with Dumbledore. The old wizard had given him a choice back then – take the train and move on to be with his parents, and Sirius, Remus, and Fred. Or return._

 _He had chosen to return and face Voldemort for what he had thought would be the last time. He had chosen Ginny, and their future together. He had chosen his children, and his family. In a way, he had said goodbye to his parents even then, deciding not to "dwell on dreams."_

 _Tonight, he would face Voldemort again, and as much as he tried to deny it, if he survived at all it would be because Voldemort had died. Voldemort would have to die, even if it meant killing Lily and James. Harry was overwhelmed by it all. It was too much to face right now, and too much to think about. Now, Harry was shoving the reality down, choosing to imagine an impossible scenario where both he and his parents could survive this._

 _Harry didn't say goodbye to Ginny, either. He gave his wife what would likely be a last kiss, hoping it translated all his feelings for her, and for the family they had built together. He looked longingly at the stairs, knowing only a couple floors above, his children laid sleeping peacefully, without any idea they would probably never see him, or even their mother, again. Harry knew that if he looked on the faces of his children, he would never be able to overcome the guilt of opening that front door and leaving for what was likely to be his last battle._

 _"Please, stay." Harry had whispered one last time to Ginny, cupping her face in his hands. Tears filled her eyes, but they didn't fall. She didn't answer, but she didn't need to. It was still no. She wouldn't abandon him to fight Voldemort alone – not this time._

 _As Harry opened the front door, he prayed that what had befallen Remus and Tonks did not befall them tonight._

Harry was brought back to the present as Hermione gripped his elbow, saying something loudly over the commotion in the room.

"What!?" Harry yelled back.

"Come on, let's go!" Hermione shouted, dragging him to an apparition point. At least half the room had emptied by now. Harry nodded, shaking his head to remove the last dregs of memory.

 _It's just like any other battle._ He thought to himself, like a mantra. _17 years you've been an auror. 17 years you've planned and prepared, trained and led the aurors into countless battles. It's not any different than any normal day._ Harry struggled to clear his head as he entered the apparition point.

The turmoil, the anguish, the anger, and the grief disappeared, and in its place was calm resolve. He turned on the spot.

Harry appeared in a clearing surrounded by thick trees. Ministry and Order members surrounded him, and he gripped his wand tightly, taking one last mind clearing breath, closing his eyes for just a moment.

When he opened his eyes again, focus on the battle at hand directed his thoughts and actions. He began walking to the front of the field to lead the gathered host into combat.

…

Lily and James felt the familiar pull behind the navel as they placed a finger on the large portkey. With a rush, they appeared in a clearing, the dawn light casting damp shadows and a bright orange hue stained the sky. Mist surrounded them, but it was quickly dissipating with the morning heat.

They looked around. To their left was Bill, his scars standing out on his pale face. His beautiful blonde wife stood beside him, her wand extended as they took defensive stances. More pops were heard as dozens apparated into the clearing, each with their wands drawn and prepared.

"It's there." came a hiss from behind them. Kingsley Shacklebolt had appeared, and was surrounded by a number of aurors, with both Percy and Hermione by his side. They looked to where the minister was pointing and saw the tip of a dark, stone structure.

Nurmengard.

The sound of waves hitting a rocky shore reached their ears, and gulls shrieked above. Suddenly, Harry was there, walking to the front of the field. Hush followed in his wake as they all readied themselves to act on his orders.

Harry looked around, recognizing face after face. Suddenly, he stilled, and his eyes narrowed to slits in anger. He shifted course, and strode towards a long figure near the edge of the clearing. Lily and James could see a tall, gangly, turquoise haired boy shift uncomfortably as Harry approached him.

The young couple made their way towards Teddy and Harry, suddenly accompanied by Ginny, who looked thunderous.

"What are you doing here?" Harry growled, grabbing Teddy by the arm.

"What do you mean, what am I doing here?"

"You aren't even graduated, dammit! It was one thing to let you attend the Order meeting, it was another for you come here! You don't know what you're doing!" Harry struggled to keep his voice low, looking up as Ginny and his parents approached. Her own face was flushed red with anger.

"Edward John Lupin, what the Hell are you doing here!? I told you to stay home!" she barked. Though more than a foot shorter than her godson, her wrath immediately caused his turquoise hair to wilt and turn mousy brown.

"I – hey, Gin. I – Look! I am of age! I can apparate legally! I passed my OWLs and –"

"That's school!" Harry said harshly. Teddy tried to protest, but the loud pops had died down now, and it seemed everyone had arrived. Harry looked around him, setting his jaw and squaring his shoulders firmly.

"Take care of this." He said to Ginny, and she nodded, her eyes unwavering from her godson's.

"Go home this instant! I will not tell you twice…" James and Lily's attention left their best friend's son, and returned to follow their own son as he again strode purposefully to the front of the field. As he walked, he grasped the shoulder of Bill Weasley, and whispered something in his ear. Immediately, Bill, Fleur, George, and Percy rushed forward into the trees, each with their wands out and twirling.

"They're creating temporary cloaking charms along our path." James whispered, answering Lily's silent question. Harry was at the front now. He raised his hand for attention, and the low murmuring that had steadily been like a buzz cut off as his presence was noted among the small army that was gathered.

Harry touched the tip of his wand to his throat. "Silentium evagantum." He murmured. He spoke, and instead of a booming voice such as allowed by the Sonorous charm, a quiet whisper was sounded in the ear of each person in the field. It was as if he were standing right next to each and every one of them, sharing a secret in their ear.

"Look to the northwest, and you will see the fortress of Nurmengard. As you have undoubtedly already been briefed, this is the current residing place of Lord Voldemort and his Risen Followers. There may be innocents found inside, so be aware of who you target.

Move forward stealthily, and watch your surroundings. As we near the fortress of Nurmengard, we will undoubtedly be detected, if spies haven't already revealed our plans to the enemy. We greatly outnumber them, so fear of being overtaken is minimal, however Lord Voldemort is as powerful as he ever was. So be prepared to defend at all times." Harry watched fear flicker across each face at the mention of the deadly dark lord.

"Today, we once again face our greatest enemy. Today, we will end this war. We did it before, and we will do it again." It was as if Phoenix song filled their hearts, and each took courage. They surged forward, placing disillusionment and silencing charms as they walked.

….

Astoria rushed to Ollivander's side, noting the trickle of blood dripping from his hairline. She removed the Elder Wand from Ollivander's robes pocket, as well as Ollivander's own wand. She handed that one to Draco, and pocketed the Elder Wand, out of sight. Theodore snatched his wand from the stone floor, and the three stumbled into the hallway, all using the walls and each other to stay upright.

After what seemed an eternity of stairs, which diminished Astoria's strength significantly until she was basically being dragged between Draco and Theodore. As they neared the bottom, shouts and angry yells reached their ears. They peered around the corner to see five Risen Followers flailing madly, shooting spells and curses in every direction as if fighting an invisible enemy. Astoria ducked as she was nearly hit by a curse.

"Come on! We've got to get out of here!" Theodore said loudly over the angry yells. There was a large gaping hole in the entrance to the fortress, as if someone had blasted their way inside.

Curses and hexes rushed past their ears as Astoria, Draco, and Theodore flung themselves to the exit in disarray, dodging the many flashes of color. Draco immediately erected a shield around the three of them, holding it steady as it was hit by badly aimed curses.

They stumbled out of the exit, and the sun hit the three escapees, temporarily blinding them. Draco especially was affected, having spent so long in a dark dungeon, and he threw his hand in front of his eyes with a cry of pain. Loud pops were heard around them, and their blurry eyes adjusted to the brightness to see scores of Risen Followers appearing at the fortress. Astoria, Draco, and Theodore all held their breaths as not only the fight being waged inside the fortress was noticed, but as was their presence.

Wands turned on them, and despite their fear and fatigue, Draco and Astoria raised their own wands to defend themselves. Suddenly, Astoria was hit with a powerful curse from behind, and she thudded to the ground face first, yelping in pain. She felt the tremor of the earth as Draco fell beside her, and breathed in the smell of dirt and grass and she tried to stop her head from spinning.

"I've got them!" came a voice above her. "They were trying to escape, but I've got them now." She shut her eyes in anger as Draco was suddenly bound in ropes, and Theodore's wand touched the back of her neck.

"Well done, Nott. Tie the woman up and return them to their cell! The rest of you, get to the entrance and find out what the Hell is going on!" The thudding of heavy boots rushed past her, followed by the near silent tread of the man in command. "The Dark Lord will take care of them as he sees fit." Furor Gray said as he neared them. Astoria felt the sting of tight ropes lacing her wrists behind her back, and she was pulled unceremoniously to her knees.

"You bastard." Draco hissed as he too was pulled to his knees. Theodore's answer was suddenly cut off as yells and shouts were heard. Astoria looked up from where she was kneeling, searching for the source of the yells. Gray turned hastily, raising his wand as he was suddenly blasted off his feet!

Astoria rose to her feet and looked beyond the mass of black robed wizards towards the flashes of spells in the near distance. Dozens of men and women, wands raised and blazing, were emerging from the forest. The Risen Followers turned in surprise, and war cries left their lips as they met their enemies head on.

Bellows of rage were heard, and the trio turned to see that the large gaping hole in the fortress had been warded and barred entrance or exit of anyone. Many of Voldemort's followers were beating their fists on what looked like nothing but air, staring into the bottom floor of Nurmengard. Their hands were bruised, and a deep reverberation sounded with each pound. Some were using their wands in an attempt to blast their way inside, only to be flung backwards.

Astoria grinned, letting out a gust of relief as she felt the ropes fall from her wrists. She turned as Theodore cancelled the binding spell on Draco as well. "They've come!" she exclaimed. "Ronald Weasley must have told them where we were, and they've come!"

"I don't think they've come for you…" Theodore said tensely, as a streak of red nearly missed Astoria's side. Theodore took that moment to cast disarming spells at those nearest him, auror and dark wizard alike.

"Stop! They're on our side!" Astoria shouted as Theodore flung another auror off his feet with a well placed curse.

"They're not on mine! Neither is at the moment!" Theodore shouted back, blocking a curse sent his way as the three of them began to be noticed once more. Theodore's black robes suddenly seemed extremely conspicuous when surrounded by blue.

Draco nodded and quickly disarmed and stunned another man, and they made their way around the edge of the fortress, keeping close to the building as much as possible, hoping not to draw any more unnecessary attention towards themselves.

Astoria could see Ginny, back to back with Hermione, shooting spells at two opponents each. Curse after curse were fired wordlessly, their wands slashing through the air as the dark wizards struggled to do anything but block. George and Percy were standing side by side, each fighting their own opponent, though Percy seemed likely to lose any moment as he deflected curse after curse, stumbling to his knees.

Astoria didn't see what happened as her vision was suddenly blocked by Neville Longbottom in blue auror robes, battling three at once. His eyes were wide and focused, his jaw set in a grim line as he sent a powerful blasting jinx towards two of the dark wizards. They stumbled dramatically, and Neville immediately made use of the miniscule reprieve to stun the third. Now with only two opponents, he continued the duel, backing away towards one of his allies for support.

Everywhere Astoria looked, she could see aurors and members of the order battling ferociously, most with numerous foes. There were cracks of apparition all around them, and to her dismay, more Risen Followers were arriving, as if they had only just been notified and were coming late in the game.

She grabbed Draco's hand and tried to disapparate, only to be disappointed. The wards were still up and as strong as ever. There was no leaving, and only those who had been branded with the resurrected dark mark could arrive at the fortress. This explained why there were so few fighters on the light side, as they were probably running nearly a mile to even reach the battle!

Astoria cried out as three blue-clad aurors were blasted into the air and flung towards them, slamming into her as she crumpled against the wall. A loud _snap!_ rang in her ear, and her first thought was she had broken a bone.

She opened her eyes, and struggled out from under the large auror that had fallen on top of her. Crawling on her hands and knees, her vision blurry from the blast, she raised her wand arm, only to discover it wasn't a bone that had broken, but her brother's wand. She threw it aside without another thought, and immediately began searching for Draco.

The shouts around her seemed muffled as she turned her head every which way, losing her balance again and again and falling to her hands and knees. She coughed harshly as smoke filled her nostrils, mixing with the blood and tears that streamed down her face.

"Draco?" she rasped. Her throat burned as more smoke filled her mouth and lungs. There was a fire somewhere, but she couldn't tell where it was coming from. "DRACO!" she finally screamed in desperation, stumbling in a circle, unable to focus.

"ASTORIA!" came a loud cry in her ear, and firm hands suddenly grasped her shoulders tightly, pulling her down to the ground once more. "Astoria! Oh, thank Merlin you're still alive!" came the same shrill voice.

"Draco? You're not Draco, where is he?" she mumbled, red clouding her vision. Her head continued to turn every which way, searching for white blond, searching for…? It was so hard to breathe, and her lungs burned. "D-Draco? Where are you…?" A high pitched ringing was sounding in her ears from the blast.

The person in front of her who was not Draco kept talking, shaking her in frustration as she refused to acknowledge their words.

 _SLAP!_

 _"_ Astoria, FOCUS!" Astoria's eyes widened as she looked into bright green eyes. Her mind seemed to clear as she felt the sting on her cheek and fingernails bite into her shoulders. Her eyes stilled and narrowed, the ringing in her ears becoming more and more distant as she focused on the woman before her.

"Lily, what…?" Astoria began, utterly confused as she looked around.

"Take it! Take it, quickly!" Lily shouted. Astoria looked down to see a shrunken tea cup was being pushed towards her. "Take it and get out of here!"

"Lily, I – No! I can't! How did you -? Why are you giving me this?" Astoria spluttered, astonished at the red-heads insistence.

"It's a portkey. It will take you to Muriel's. Scorpius is waiting for you, you've got to go!" Lily said again, thrusting the tiny teacup. Astoria refused to take it.

"I can't! Not without Draco! And Theodore, I can't leave without him either!" Astoria countered, removing her wand from her robes pocket.

 _No, not her wand…_ she remembered for barely a second.

"Tori!" her head whipped around as she saw Theodore racing towards her, his black robes billowing.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Lily bellowed, and Theodore was lifted off his feet from the force of the spell, his wand flying out of his hand and into the fray.

Astoria gasped, crying out in shock at what Lily had done. But Lily didn't seem to either know nor care that who she had assumed was a Risen Follower was actually an ally. Her attention was back on Astoria, who stared at her incredulously.

"What did you do -!?" she began, raising her wand in anger.

Then, the wand was suddenly torn from her grasp, and in its place shoved the tea cup. "You saved my life, Astoria Malfoy!" Lily barked, placing Astoria's wand on the ground beside her and curling her own hands around Astoria's, forcing her to clutch the tea cup.

"You could have killed me back there, at the house, but you didn't. You could have saved yourself a lot of pain, but you didn't. You saved my life, now I'm saving yours!" Astoria could only stare at Lily, her pale face flushed with emotion as she continued to struggle against Astoria's uncooperative grip on the portkey.

Suddenly, both women ceased their struggling, and their eyes widened in fear as a dark shadow loomed in their peripherals. Both women turned their heads, dropping the tea cup in shock as Lord Voldemort descended from the top of the high tower down to the ground below.

 **Next up, I will post The Duel, Part 1 as well as Part 2, so you can look forward to TWO chapters coming soon:)**

 **I love you all so much! I appreciate you reviews and comments, and you help me be a better writer:) Thank you!**


	43. Chapter 43

**I do not own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling:)**

Chapter 43: The Duel Part 1

Henrick Ollivander groaned as his eyes opened to the dim light. His head was pounding, and he could already tell there was a large bruise forming over his eye from where he had hit his head. Groans echoed around him as Avery and the other guards also returned to consciousness, and Ollivander looked around him to realize he was still in Draco Malfoy's cell. Only Draco Malfoy wasn't in the cell.

Shouts and screams were heard distantly, and Ollivander's left arm burned. Memory returned to him, of finding Draco Malfoy's cell unguarded, him pressing his wand to his dark mark, being flung backward by Astoria's spell.

Because he had been distracted by none other than Ronald Weasley.

His breathing hitched, as the terrible realization of his connection to the Dark Lord hit him full force. More shouts and cries of pain reached his ears, and the fortress shook with a powerful spell.

"Ergh, what the hell's happened?" moaned a man from his right. Ollivander ignored him as a sudden burst of rage overtook him – rage at his mother's death, rage at realizing _who_ had been responsible, and rage at discovering his revenge could never be taken, lest it possibly result in his own demise.

Memory of what Ronald Weasley had shown him flashed again through his mind, and his eyes clouded over.

 _Well, I suppose you'd best return." His Uncle Garrick said, thinly. They were in his uncle's upstairs study, and it was very late at night. Henrick had watched as Ron met the old man's eyes, reluctantly._

" _Wait. Who was the father?"_

" _Oh,_ _is it really so important?" Garrick asked, not meeting Ron's eye._

 _"Yes, I think it is." He insisted. Garrick hesitated again, and took a deep breath._

 _"Tom Riddle." Ron nodded, confirming his suspicions._

 _"Before I go, I need you to tell me about the ritual. What did Matilda do to tie her life to Voldemort?"_

 _Garrick had seemed reluctant, but acquiesced. "With Eileen's help, they enacted a ritual – one very old and very dark, that would tie their lives together."_

" _Like a sort of horcrux?" Ron asked quietly._

 _"Yes, indeed. It is very similar." He said, and both seemed surprised at the other's knowledge of them. "Yes, very similar. She connected herself, the baby, and the baby's father by powerful bonds to assure he would never try to kill her, nor her baby, again._

 _You see, should she or her baby be in danger of death, their bodies would pull from the strength and the soul of the dark lord, to the point of killing him instead, if necessary. From then on, though he wanted nothing to do with Henrick, he made sure they were kept safe - and his very life assured that they were._

 _Unfortunately, the ritual worked both ways. If the father died, in an effort to survive, the bond would begin taking from the strength of the other person in order to save him, as well. By participating in such a ritual, Matilda had guaranteed her own death._

 _On the night of October 31_ _st_ _, 1981, that is exactly what occurred. Voldemort nearly died that night, and the curse began pulling her strength –"_

" _What exactly do you mean by strength? Like, it weakened her?"_

" _Yes. Matilda recognized what was happening almost immediately, and she floo called me, begging me for help. Though I have been alive a very long time, and though I have profound knowledge in many subjects, I am afraid it was of no use in this case._

 _For hours she tried to stop it, to save herself. She raised her wand and attempted a counter-curse. But there was none, and it was much too late. Nothing she tried would work. The ritual was permanent, and could not be removed. The process was slow and agonizing, and she was unable to save herself in the end._

 _Before the night was through, the ministry began rounding up any and all persons with even a hint of connection to the dark lord. They entered her home, only to see her pointing the wand at herself, and then collapsing, dead before she hit the floor. It was an assumed suicide by Avada Kedavra. It was also confirmation to them that she was a Dark supporter, who would rather die than live in a world without her master. She was marked a death eater, and a suicide. The taboo followed Henrick all his life."_

 _Ron was silent, taking all of this in before responding, "And Henrick never knew any of this? He still thinks his mother committed suicide?"_

 _"I am afraid so." He said. Ron swallowed thickly, bile threatening to rise._

" _Sir, after Matilda's death, did the ritual remain intact?"_

Henrick couldn't think about it anymore. His mind was so filled with despair and anger, he didn't want to think about the rest of what Ronald Weasley and his uncle had discussed. He reached into his robes, searching for his wand. He growled in frustration, noting the absence of not only his own wand, but of the Elder Wand as well. He had decided to wait until the morning to present the wand to his master, preferably once he had attained all three of the hallows… and had a chance to use the stone, himself.

Although, it seemed the stone was no longer necessary to ask his mother why she had committed suicide that night. She hadn't. She had been tricked, and foolish, and she had died to save _him._ All because his own father had tried so desperately to kill him before he was even born.

Another wave of hot rage filled him, and he rose to his feet.

"Eh, what should we do? I think there's a battle going on…" came the voice of another idiot guard.

Ollivander eyed the two men in front of him. "Moore, go and join the fight." He instructed. Avery made to follow his comrade, only to be stopped by Ollivander's hand on his shoulder. "Not you."

With a swift punch to the jaw, Avery slammed to the ground, completely dumbstruck. Ollivander snatched the wand from the man's hand.

"What the –" a bright green flash, and Avery was silent. Without sparing another glance at the man, Ollivander fled the cell, and began rushing down the steps.

Another shiver ran through the fortress as another powerful spell hit it. _Someone's trying to get inside._ He thought, his pace slowing as he began to creep around the corner. The sound of voices reached his ears, but none familiar.

"Anderson, Milson, keep working on those wards. We can't apparate out, but if you can at least lower them enough for portkeys, that'll be good enough for me."

 _Obviously not dark fighters…_ Ollivander thought as he waited near the bottom of the stairs, hiding in the shadows. As if to confirm this, shouts suddenly sounded and he watched as Moore was slammed into the bottom of the stairs, obviously having failed to make it out of the fortress without being caught by the aurors. Ollivander hid further in the shadows, contemplating. He didn't know how many there were, but he also didn't want to risk it.

"Jones, begin searching the cells and bring any prisoners here. Bring Jackson and Smith with you. There may be more Follower's lurking about." Shadows began inching up the steps, and Ollivander ducked into a nearby cell. He stood there in the dark, contemplating what to do.

A hand was suddenly on his shoulder, and Ollivander started, raising Avery's wand at the man. It was Andrew Greengrass. Ollivander slammed him against the wall, his wand to his throat.

"You… you let your sister get away, didn't you?" he hissed, barely a whisper so as to avoid detection.

"No! No, I swear, it wasn't my fault, I swear!" Andrew denied, his eyes wide in fear. Ollivander noted the trickle of blood running down the man's temple, and the blood shot eyes of someone who had obviously just been stunned.

"We've got to get out of here. There are aurors below." Ollivander said, rolling his eyes at Andrew's look of relief as the wand was removed from his throat.

"I know. I came down to see if I could join the battle, but that mudblood, Creevey, has a bunch of aurors guarding the entrance. They've warded it against anyone coming in or out. They want to help the prisoners escape." Ollivander nodded in understanding.

"The Dark Lord's chambers are at the top of the tower." Ollivander whispered.

"I thought about that, but I wasn't sure if going near Master right now is a very wise decision…" Andrew uttered nervously. Ollivander rolled his eyes, scoffing.

"Bloody coward. I'll handle the Dark Lord. With the battle below, I'm sure he has other things on his mind than your stupidity. Just watch our backs on the way up." He hissed. Andrew nodded in agreement, his face paling. They began ascending the stairs two at a time.

….

"STUPEFY!" Ron bellowed, emerging from the trees. He was late to the party, that's for sure, having used his time to try and distract Ollivander and give the aurors time to organize themselves. It seemed it hadn't worked too well, but it had been worth a shot.

Ron looked on, horrified as bodies laid splayed out, and guttural screams sounded. The crash of the waves from the cliffside only added to the sound of turmoil, and behind him, someone had set a portion of the trees on fire. The flames were licking up the wood and spreading quickly. It would attract muggles soon, he thought worriedly.

The putrid smell of burning wood and flesh filled his nose, and he squinted through the smoke. He ran, his feet pounding, seeking a duel away from the fire.

Suddenly, he was pulled up short as a cry of pain sounded in his ears, and drew him to it. "Go on… Howl, little wolfie… _Crucio!"_ Fury like he had never felt coursed through him, and he sent a blasting spell with such force that the dark-robed man before him was thrown backwards a hundred feet, crumpling in a heap on the ground. "TEDDY!" Ron bellowed, falling to the boy's side and turning him over. His hair and features seemed to be flickering in and out, his skin going from pale to dark, his hair from black to white and back again, his eyes shut as he whimpered.

"Dammit, kid, what the hell are you doing, coming here!?" Ron snapped, tapping Teddy's cheek lightly in an effort to rouse him. The boy opened his eyes finally, and upon seeing Ron's face above him, finally worked to control his metamorphmagus abilities. His hair flashed a Weasley red for a moment before settling on the mousy brown he often diverted to when ashamed or guilty.

"I – I'm sorry." He whispered, moaning in pain. "It – it hurts."

"Yeah, well, that's the cruciatus for you." Ron responded, lacking sympathy. "That's what bloody happens when you try to fight bloody death eaters that are twice your bloody age!"

Teddy grimaced at Ron's tone, obviously using anger to mask the fear and concern he held for his nephew. "I'm – I'm sorry, Uncle Ron." He said quietly, hissing in pain as Ron raised him to his feet. "I thought I could help! I still can!"

"No, you can't! Go home, Teddy, this is no place for you!"

"Why? Because I'm too young!?" a large blast from their left caused them to cringe and Ron instinctively covered Teddy with his own outstretched arms.

"YES! You're too young, and you don't know how to fight! This isn't the place to learn, or try to be a hero!"

"But I want -!" suddenly, Teddy's voice cut off as a dark shadow distracted him, flying from the top of the tower to the ground below in a stream of smoke. Lord Voldemort had joined the fray, his bone white wand already flashing in bright green as he twirled in rage. "Oh no…"

"GET OUT OF HERE!" Ron gave one last command, turning his attention to the Dark Lord of his nightmares, the monster of his childhood. Ron began running towards Voldemort, when suddenly a curse from the side slammed into him, throwing him to the ground.

He grunted in pain, feeling the wetness of blood already seeping down his side. He looked around to see who had targeted him. Black smoke materialized in front of him, and his eyes fell on a lone man with pale, piercing blue eyes. There was no mistaking the nephew of Garrick Ollivander. Voldemort wasn't the only one who had flown down from the top of the tower.

"Ronald Weasley!" the man hissed, and another curse was shot towards Ron, who barely managed to raise his shield in time. He deflected the curse, rising to his feet to face his opponent. In the corner of his eye, Ron watched as Harry stood in front of Voldemort, alone, just as he always had. Guilt and anger welled up in Ron as he watched his friend, knowing that once again, he was unable to help.

Another curse came his way – an ominous bright green. Ron dodged the spell, rolling back to his feet in a practiced auror move, his wand already forming his counter curse. Beams of light flew between the two practiced duelists, and Ron could only ponder as he deflected yet another hex, _what would happen if he killed Henrick Ollivander now?_

…

Harry Potter wasn't grinning exactly, but a satisfied smirk definitely lit his features as he blasted yet another opponent away from him. He assessed the field, and despite the violence and the death that had already occurred, it was as he had hoped: the Light side outnumbered the Dark. Despite the dark's willingness to use more heavy-handed and brutal methods, their aggressive use of the unforgiveables was still outweighed by the sheer numbers of Harry's forces.

Harry took a moment to locate Ginny, his eyes combing the vast battlefield surrounding the fortress. Hermione and Ginny were both fighting side by side, carrying their own. James was fighting with Bill now, his jaw clenched as he deflected another curse and responded with his own. Lily was nowhere to be found, and a shock of fear hit his gut as he was forced to abandon his search in place of another Risen Follower brave enough to take on Harry Potter.

He still had not seen Ron, but he wasn't overly concerned. Ron could take care of himself. Harry deflected a stunner, and responded in kind. He watched as Neville overcame another rival, and joined him as they defended each other's backs, just like the old days before Neville gave up the auror department for teaching.

Harry's wand was a blur, and Neville's was too as back to back they dueled. Suddenly, Harry felt Neville freeze behind him, and Harry turned to watch with bated breath as his old enemy descended from the top of the high tower. In a dark pillar of smoke, he flew to the ground beneath, the smoke seeming to smolder on the ground until dispersing fully as Lord Voldemort rose to his full height. Harry could almost feel the tremors of fear ripple through the Light's ranks, and glorious anticipation was breathed in by the Dark's.

Harry squeezed Neville's shoulder tightly, leaving Neville to deal with Harry's opponent as well as his own, and Harry faced his old foe.

Voldemort's red eyes met bright green, and for a moment the two did nothing but stare each other down. Harry observed the bone white wand, pleased to know the Elder wand had not yet been given to the dark lord. He didn't allow his mind to wonder or contemplate where it might be, instead focusing solely on the task at hand.

Death seemed to hover, and Harry gripped Athur's wand tightly, raising it in a defensive stance. Harry longed to seek a last look at his parents, knowing that this duel could only result in one of two ways; his own death, or the death of his parents, along with Voldemort's.

The last faces he saw in his mind's eyes were those of his children – Teddy, James, Al, and Lily, ending with Ginny, her bright red hair and chocolate brown eyes.

"PROTEGO!" Harry barked as a blast of bright blue nearly knocked him off his feet as it slammed against his shield charm. He snapped his wand in a sharp downward, and roared as a burst of red fled from his wand. Voldemort sidestepped it, throwing curse after curse. Harry deflected and dodged, blasting a curse of his own only every third or so of Voldemort's.

Harry rolled once more, dodging another killing curse. Others, like Kingsley and Bill, tried to come to Harry's aid, but with only a sweep of Voldemort's hand they were blasted backwards. It was as if Voldemort only wanted to duel Harry Potter – in a bitter one on one. As usual, his need to prove his power outweighed everything else.

Harry watched as yet another one of his friends was swept violently away as they tried to help, and anger welled up in him. He coiled his wand tightly, then swept it in a backward slash, and what could only be described as a bolt of steel gray lightning flew from the wand's tip. Voldemort's eyes widened, and he was forced to bring up his shield, stepping back from the force of the blow. Harry took the opportunity to fire more curses.

He didn't need to think of specific names of spells anymore, like when he was in school – he needed only to picture the effect and the power he desired to be thrown at his enemy, and his wand responded in kind. His time as an auror had made him precise and formidable, his curses fast and accurate. But even with Harry's natural abilities and skills, he growled in frustration as Arthur's wand struggled to produce the power that Harry was used to.

Voldemort growled in anger, glaring as he was forced to bring up his shield once again. With one last frustrated outburst, Voldemort disappeared in a swirl of black smoke.

Harry spun, the hairs on his neck and arms on end as he searched for Voldemort's reappearance. A flash of black, and Harry was thrown off his feet. But he didn't hit the ground. Instead, he seemed to be suspended, the air around him thick and sluggish. He gasped, and his eyes flew open wide, his vision blurred as his throat and lungs burned. His fingers stretched outwards, and he lost grip on his wand.

Harry cried out, finally realizing he was underwater, and his lungs filled and choked. He struggled to form a thought as fear clouded his judgement. He was drowning, and Ginny's face appeared before him.

 _Please, stay…_

 _Not a chance. Not this time…_

…

Draco was on the ground, his head spinning in agony as he had been blasted far away, hitting a tree before crumpling to the ground. He had blacked out momentarily, only to return to consciousness just in time to watch as Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort engaged in a powerful duel. Draco rose unsteadily to his feet, his eyes transfixed by what was happening between the two wizards.

Despite the distance, Draco could see the determination shining on Harry's face as suddenly Voldemort disappeared in a cloud of black smoke, and Harry whirled in circles, searching for the dark lord.

Draco wanted to help, but he was so far away. He watched as Voldemort reappeared, without Harry seeing him. "BEHIND YOU!"Draco couldn't help but yell, knowing Harry would never hear him. He watched in horror as water suddenly rushed up from the sea, as if the ocean were overflowing. Harry was enveloped by the waves, and he struggled fruitlessly against it, like a doll dropped into a snow globe.

The water churched and roiled around him, encompassing him high in the air inside a sphere of angry swells. Draco ran towards him, his wand raised, but he knew he would be too late. He was too far away, and there were so many to fight through.

The Risen Followers flanked their master, preventing the light side from coming to Harry's aid, and vice versa, as the light side deflected and defended any hexes from hitting their Savior. Draco's ears pounded with his heart beat, and cries of fear surrounded him as the Light side witnessed the drowning of Harry Potter.

…..

Harry's eyes shut in pain as his lungs burned and his heart thudded in his ears. _C'mon Harry, do something! Do something!_ He commanded his brain, his body pitching in the water, his arms flailing for his wand. Where he was – in the sea below the cliffs, or still up above, he didn't know. But finally, his fingers latched onto that long, slender wood that meant his salvation. His fingers tightened on his wand, and his eyes flashed as he allowed his body's instinctual magic to take control.

As if in answer to his silent prayer, the water surrounding Harry like a globe seemed to momentarily freeze. Harry hung suspended in the air, unable to move, and still unable to breath. Then, with a sound like smashing crystal, the globe shattered as he fell to the ground. Spluttering, he rolled to the side avoiding a curse sent his way, quickly summoning a large shard of ice to block another curse. He gasped deeply, flinching as another spell rebounded painfully against his conjured shield, desperate to regain his breath.

With a roar, Harry rose, slicing his wand through the air. The remaining shards of ice were launched towards Voldemort, their already sharp, jagged edges turned sharper still, like daggers aiming for Voldemort's heart. As they neared their target, Voldemort sent his own wand through the air, and the shards scattered every which way.

Howls of pain split the sky as at least a dozen witches and wizards, a mix of light and dark, fell to the ground, cradling their wounds from the fragments of ice.

Harry blanched at how his own spell had gone so spectacularly wrong. Voldemort took advantage. With another slash of his wand, blood sprayed from Harry's abdomen as the cutting curse hit home.

Harry fell to his knees, shocked. His hands touched his stomach, coming away red. Then the pain hit, and Harry was temporarily blinded by it as he fell forward, his hands barely stopping him from hitting the ground face first.

He sat back heavily on his heels, and gulped air as blood began to pool underneath him. His arm encircled his abdomen, hugging himself tightly, praying it would help staunch the bleeding. He felt a chill as his arm immediately felt warm and wet as his sleeve was soaked through. He blinked and shook his head, struggling to regain some semblance of control, knowing that if he didn't rise, this would be his last moment on earth.

A hiss like laugh was heard above him as Voldemort drew nearer to his adversary.

"I admit, I was expecting more from you this time round, Harry Potter. It seems you are just as weak as you have always been." The high, cold voice spoke above him, and Harry raised his head, refusing to die without looking his killer in the eyes.

Voldemort's smile lengthened, and he tossed something to Harry. It thumped lightly near Harry's hands, but Harry refused to tear his gaze away from those red eyes.

"Go on. Take it. A man ought to die with his wand in his hand, don't you agree?" Realization hit Harry at Voldemort's words, and he looked down to see his own Holly Phoenix wand had been given back to him. Harry took it in his hand, and a feeling of recognition buzzed in his fingertips. The wand seemed to sing and tremble.

Harry raised his head once more, only to find himself staring at the end of Voldemort's wand, the bone-white tip mere inches from his forehead. It came closer until it was touching his lightning bolt scar. The cold of it sent chills down Harry's spine. Even if he were to respond with a curse, he knew he would be too late.

"Avada –"

"NOOOO!" Harry heard a desperate cry, and Voldemort's wand was suddenly torn from its place as he was forced to raise a shield charm. A loud _clang!_ like a cymbal was heard as a curse bounced off Voldemort's shield, and Harry turned to see Ginny, her red hair like fire, her eyes bright and indomitable.

Ginny was forced to raise her own shield as Voldemort sent a powerful hex her way, a _boom!_ sounding as she staggered back from the blow. He had to close his eyes as another wave of shock and pain coursed through him at the sound. Harry raised his own wand, only to choke on blood as he strived to form a coherent spell.

His mind and limbs were sluggish, and his mouth filled with the warm, iron liquid as he fell forward once more, bracing himself on his hands and knees.

Voldemort looked at him without pity, and slowly turned away from Harry, looking the young woman up and down as if assessing the threat she posed. He raised his wand, and drew up another shield as three more curses were sent his way, this time from his left.

James Potter, Edgar Dawson, and Dennis Creevey all stood before him, their wands raised. Voldemort froze, his shock evident as he looked at the man he had murdered over 30 years ago.

"Who…?" Voldemort started to ask, when he was interrupted by a pain in his shoulder. His attention had been so focused on James Potter, that Ginny had managed to touch him with her own cutting curse. Voldemort growled, spinning away from Harry and back towards Ginny and the three wizards. With loud battle cries, they fired curse after curse, and Voldemort deflected, his wand blazing as all four took on the dark lord.

Shouts of encouragement were heard all around them from the light side still standing, and the Risen Followers became alarmed at their master's position. The Risen Followers were dwindling, and now instead of three to one against the Light side, it was at least two to one against the Dark.

Neville Longbottom was now paired with Oliver Wood, and George and Hermione were fighting alongside Bill and Fleur. Percy lay on the ground, his horn-rimmed glasses nowhere to be found. Kingsley was crouched beside him, still fighting on his knees, a large shard of ice protruding from his leg. Lee Jordan was crumpled against the outside wall of the fortress, with Cormac McClaggen fighting alongside Parvati Patil nearby. The grounds were splattered with blue and black, the fallen aurors and Risen Followers like a spatter-painted canvas. Of those still on their feet, the colored robes outmatched the black, though the dark wizards continued to fight ferociously.

Voldemort took account of the four opponents before him, leading them steadily away from the others. The battle continued to be waged around them. His red eyes glared, his eyebrow raised haughtily at his odds of one against four. He barely seemed concerned, though his consistent need for a shield charm told a different story. Voldemort growled in frustration, and he disappeared in a puff of black smoke, appearing and disappearing at random intervals around James, Ginny, Dawson, and Dennis Creevey.

They spun and whirled, their eyes flickering and racing at each hint of darkness, flinging spells only to watch as they passed right through the smoke.

"ARRGGHH!" Dawson cried out as he was suddenly pulled off his feet, like a marionette being lifted by its puppeteer. He was thrown far into the distance, landing deep in the forest, his yells of fear cutting off sharply. Dennis bellowed with rage, and fought with renewed vigor. The smoke was thickening, burning their throats and nostrils and making it hard to see.

Dennis began to hyperventilate as Ginny and James both disappeared from sight in the dark smoke, and the wind and deafening sound of battle decreased dramatically, leaving him in nearly absolute silence and stillness.

He spun, searching for either friend or foe, only to feel his own feet lift off the ground. He soared through the air at breakneck speed, over the edge of the cliff to the sea below.

Ginny and James collided back to back, their wands facing outwards as Voldemort continued to appear and disappear, black smoke now surrounding them and obscuring their vision. It was as if night had fallen around them, and even the sun had become concealed behind the haze of darkness.

Ginny yelped in fear, but her wand remained steady as she searched the smoke for the monster.

…

Harry gasped again, barely forming the words coherent enough to speak the necessary incantation.

He had never been good with healing spells.

"V- vulner – ra San – Sanentur," he stammered, running his wand across his own abdomen, his hand shaky and weak as blood continued to flow. "Vulner – Vulnera San – Sanentur!" It wasn't working. His mind couldn't focus enough to put the necessary power into the spell. His vision was going dark and his limbs trembled and shook, finally relinquishing their strength as he fell forward.

But he didn't hit the grass. Arms were suddenly wrapped tightly around him, pulling him backward until he was leaning against someone. "Vulnera Sanentur!" came a voice. Harry choked on a gasp as his wound began to tug, his abdomen knitting shut.

"Emantur Ligna! Vulnera Sanentur!" Harry's skin began to sear and burn. He cried out in pain, only to choke again on the blood filling his mouth. "Bloody Hell Potter, breathe!" came the harsh voice above him. The person holding him turned him onto his side, and Harry retched, the blood spilling from his mouth and throat.

He gasped, this time allowing air to fill his lungs, his vision clearing. He fought against the arms holding him, and staggered away from the person, falling to his knees quickly. He looked into the cold gray eyes of who had saved him.

"Malfoy?" He rasped.

"Merlin, I thought you were dead." Draco said, his voice full of relief.

Harry groaned. "I still might be." He muttered, his arm encircling his abdomen once again, the pain excruciating. Harry swallowed deeply, closing his eyes and breathing through his nose in an effort to get the pain under control. He'd felt pain before, and he breathed deep, allowing the pain to become a dull ache in the back of his mind as he focused on more important things.

Harry raised his head and watched as, a short distance away, a large plume of swirling back smoke leapt from the ground to the sky, creating a storm in the center of the battle field; a tornado of black smoke. Tearing wind pulled at his robes and whipped his hair as he looked at it. Somewhere in that blackness was Ginny, fighting their worst enemy.

And he was on the outside of it.

"You're lucky you almost killed me sixth year, or I never would have learned that spell." Draco said again, eyeing Harry as he fought to get his pain and trembling under control. Harry let out a throaty chuckle, wincing.

"Yeah, I always knew that day would come back to haunt me." He said, a small smile on his lips. "Never thought I'd owe a Malfoy my life. Now I owe two." Harry looked at his stomach, lifting his shirt to reveal the deep gash that had nearly sliced him in two. The wound was knit together. It wasn't exactly a fix. His internal injuries were not healed, and internal bleeding was a definite. He needed powerful potions for that. But at least he didn't have to fear bleeding out onto the grass for a little while.

Harry looked back at Draco Malfoy. He looked terrible. His pale blonde hair was greasy and filthy, bruises coated his face, and his unusually pale skin was tinged with gray – an unhealthy palor to say the least.

"Thanks." Harry grunted, meeting Draco's eyes.

"Erm, yeah. Don't mention it." He replied awkwardly. Harry staggered to his feet, thankful as Draco reached forward to help support him. Harry turned again towards the swirling mass that had erupted in the center of the battlefield, taking a step towards it.

"Potter, you're half dead! You can't go fight the Dark Lord like this!"

"I could say the same for you." Harry uttered. Draco rolled his eyes, exasperated.

"Potter –"

"Go find Astoria. Get out of here. You've done more than enough for us – for all of us. Scorpius is waiting for you." At the mention of Scorpius, Draco's jaw clenched painfully, his head jerking away from Harry's gaze.

"Go, and find Astoria, Malfoy. She needs you. And so does your son." Draco nodded his head. He clasped Harry's shoulder briefly, then took off running back from where he came. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and turned again towards the swirling mass, his ears straining against the wind. He made to run forwards when three figures crossed his path.

Thinking to take advantage of his weakness, it seemed three Risen Followers thought now was the time to attack. Harry growled in exasperation as he thought of Ginny inside that hell with Voldemort. He raised his wand, deflecting the first curse sent his way.

"MOVE!" he bellowed, but the three just spread out, dodging Harry's curses and responding in kind. They each attacked from a different side, forcing Harry to raise his shield and spin in a circle, using only defensive spells. He waited impatiently for just the right moment… _Now!_

The three wizards all cast their spell at once, each from a different angle. Harry ducked and rolled, and their spells hit each other, ricocheting. The wizards dodged to avoid their own curses.

"SECTUMSEMPRA TRIPLEXA!" Harry shouted, aiming at the wizard nearest him. Three deep gashes split the wizard in three places; one in the stomach, one in the chest, and one to the neck. It was a dark spell – one that normally Harry would never think to use. In this moment of battle, however, he couldn't bring himself to care as the man sank to the ground, face first, Harry's only concern being that of his wife and the others trapped in the black storm.

Harry spun, ducking once again. "REDUCTO!" He bellowed, the force of his spell hurtling the last two wizards through the air and out of sight. Harry looked at the man before him, as the dark red blood stained the grass beneath him. It was Furor Gray.

He looked up again at the large billowing smoke. A scream split the air, and he knew it came from inside. Harry rushed forward, Ginny's name on his lips.

Harry entered the darkness, and was stunned to find that inside it was now absolutely calm. Around them, the black smoke swirled and churned, the wind howled and blew, but in the center it was quiet and clear; the silent eye of the storm.

A yell echoed, and Harry saw as James was flipped through the air, and thrown into the swirling storm, disappearing out of sight.

And there was Ginny, standing in front of Lord Voldemort. Harry rushed forward to see Ginny throw up her shield just in time as a powerful curse was blasted towards her. What seemed like a rush of pitch-black substance hit her shield, causing her to step backward at the power of it. With a cry, her shield broke, and she was enveloped by darkness.

Harry watched in terror and horror as Ginny went still, her head tilting backward towards the sky. Her body seemed to absorb the darkness, her mouth opening wide in a silent scream as the black substance entered her throat, and her eyes went black as ink.

Without a sound, she went limp and fell to the ground in a heap.

She was dead. Harry knew she was dead, and there was nothing he could do about it.

…..


	44. Chapter 44

**I do not own Harry Potter nor any of its characters. They belong to the lovely JK Rowling:)**

Chapter 44: The Duel Part 2

 _Harry watched in terror and horror as Ginny went still, her head tilting backward towards the sky. Her body seemed to absorb the darkness, her mouth opening wide in a silent scream as the black substance entered her throat, and her eyes went black as ink._

 _Without a sound, she went limp and fell to the ground in a heap._

 _She was dead. Harry knew she was dead, and there was nothing he could do about it._

A roar of anguish ripped from Harry's throat as he watched Ginny fall. The tall, imposing figure of Lord Voldemort stepped in front of her, blocking her from view.

Harry stared at the man, green into red, as rage unlike he had ever felt coursed its way through his veins. Without uttering a word, Harry drove a vicious attack, and a violent whirlwind made of fire burned towards Voldemort.

Voldemort's satisfied smirk turned to a scowl as he conjured a powerful silver shield. It grew as the fire increased, both in size and ferocity, until Voldemort was nearly bent backwards with the force of it. Harry's wand seemed to tremble and shake, eager to take vengeance for its master.

He continued to roar, pushing more magic into the wand as the flames grew in might and intensity, the heat radiating as it struck Voldemort's shield. The fire began to take shape, first in the form of a stag, and then a horse as Voldemort took a step back, nearly falling to his knees.

With a bellow, Voldemort forced his shield upwards, his wand ripping through the fire, causing an explosion-like blast that threw Harry off his feet. Harry hit the ground hard, pain jarring him, and saw as Voldemort did the same. The storm ceased, the dark twister vanishing into the sky. Harry raised himself off the ground to see that Voldemort was kneeling, rasping heavily like he was trying to catch his breath.

Harry ignored him, his eyes seeking only one person. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Harry staggered to the crumpled pale form mere feet from him, falling at the small red head's side. His anger was snuffed out, his thirst for vengeance, not quenched, but exhausted as he looked upon the one that had meant so much.

Ginny's eyes remained open and glassy, pitch-black like a demon's. Harry looked up at Voldemort, his eyes unseeing, and then looked away; back at the woman who lay beside him. Harry closed his eyes in surrender, a deep fatigue settling into his bones. Choosing to draw her close to him, Harry cradled her in his arms, his cheek resting on the top of her head. A scathing laugh echoed, but Harry didn't care. There was no life without Ginny in it – no laughter, no joy, nothing good. Harry's mind was dark, blackened with despair, unable to think of anything or anyone else other than the one he had lost.

"Harry? Harry what are you doing!" James' voice seemed to echo and disappear. Harry again ignored him, not even registering as his stomach wound reopened, blood soaking Ginny's robes as he held her close.

It was as if the sight of her had taken the fight out of him. Harry looked up finally into the face of the monster, the pale skin, the red eyes, his skeletal features hiding any trace of the handsome boy Tom Riddle had once been.

 _Dying isn't so bad._ He thought, his grief too great even for tears. _After all, I've done it before._

…

 _What would happen if I killed Ollivander right now?_ Ron thought as he bore down on the man kneeling in front of him. The two had fought mercilessly, resisting the wind and the turmoil caused by the ferocious duel that was happening not far away between Voldemort and his numerous opponents.

And now Ron had gained the upper hand, tearing Henrick Ollivander's wand from his grasp with a well-placed Expelliarmus. Suddenly, a heart-wrenching scream tore Ron's gaze from the man before him, and Ron looked up at the tremendous pillar of whirling smoke in the center of the battle-field. It seemed to glow, like an eruption of fire seeping out from the inside.

The battle was going very badly for Harry, Ron realized. He knew that scream – knew it well, even, as it had been the same one he had heard that day in the ministry of magic as Sirius fell through the veil.

It was the same that had left his own lips when he had seen his brother laying in the Great Hall, the ghost of a laugh still on his cold face.

It had been the same one that Professor McGonagall had cried when Hagrid had exited the Forbidden Forest, cradling Harry in his massive arms, Lord Voldemort leading the way.

It was the bone-chilling cry of unadulterated sorrow, and it was undoubtedly Harry who had made it.

Ron gulped tightly as he turned back to the man before him – his piercing blue eyes a window into the soul of a troubled, spiteful man.

"Can you do it?" Ollivander asked, tauntingly.

"What do you think I'm going to do?" Ron replied. But Ron knew what he meant. Ron knew exactly what the man kneeling before him meant. Ever since speaking with Garrick Ollivander in his wand shop only hours ago, Ron knew this was coming.

As Ron looked upon the face, whose eyes so mirrored that of his uncle, his wand hand shook as he remembered the end of the conversation with the wand-maker. Had it not been like a lifetime ago?

" _Sir, after Matilda's death, did the ritual remain intact?" Ron asked the wand-maker, desperate for the answer._

" _Admittedly, I've no idea. It is as possible as it is impossible. The Dark Lord died, thereby destroying the ritual, most likely. But, the ritual was made for Henrick's sake, and so it may very well still be intact. I do not know."_

" _Wait, that's right! Voldemort died when he dueled Harry at Hogwarts! So how is it that Henrick is still alive? If he was part of the ritual with his mother, shouldn't he have died along with Voldemort?" Garrick Ollivander took a moment before answering._

" _Sin of the mother, admittedly written. Sin of the Father, lawfully taken – he shall pay for his crimes. Sin of the child, unlawfully recognized, may the life of the blameless be safeguarded." Ollivander whispered, closing his eyes as if deep in memory. Slowly he opened them again, looking at Ron with deep sorrow._

" _If I know Eileen Prince, which I can proudly say I did, she was extremely clever. In helping Matilda, she would never have allowed a ritual that would condemn the life of an innocent child. And so, Eileen invoked a ritual that required the lives of two guilty persons to safeguard one innocent person. Matilda, though she never tried to kill her baby, was not blameless in her involvement with Tom Riddle. She knew full well the extent of his wickedness and murderous intentions, her naivety being she didn't believe his wickedness would turn against her. But she knew what he was. Worse is said for Riddle, who is guilty of heinous crimes, the attempted murder of not only his unborn baby, but also Matilda. His soul made for the second guilty person."_

 _Ron's eyebrows creased. "So, if Henrick had died, so would Voldemort, which prevented Voldemort from trying to kill him or Matilda again. But if Voldemort died, only Matilda's soul would be taken from to survive, thereby safeguarding an innocent?" Garrick Ollivander refused to answer, instead barely nodding his head, his eyes crinkling in remorse._

" _Yes, soul and life force."_

" _Life force?"_

" _That is to say, magical energy, or the Magical Core. One with an exceptional magical core could survive such an experience, though what should happen to their soul is unknown. Matilda was not particularly gifted in magic, and her magical core was quickly depleted. But her soul was strong and bright. It is why it took her so long to die, I believe."_

 _Ron fell into silence, his thoughts flying._

 _He rose from his chair and gathered his cloak, preparing to go. "Thank you, Mr. Ollivander. I – I am sorry for what happened to Matilda." Ollivander nodded. Ron walked to the door, but before he could leave, Ollivander's voice cut through the silence._

 _"You are going to kill him, then?" he asked, his voice thick. Ron turned to see the wand-maker seemed to have aged 50 years. He resembled more closely the man they had found in the cellar of Malfoy Manor all those years ago – filled with despair, and hopelessness._

 _"Who?" Ron asked, feigning ignorance._

 _"My nephew. Henrick. You're going to kill him, in hopes that it kills Voldemort, aren't you?" It was more of a statement than a question, and tears glistened in the old man's eyes. Ron swallowed, thinking carefully before answering._

 _"At the moment, I don't know if that would help. I don't even know if the ritual is still intact after all of this. But Voldemort must die, and so Henrick's death, as well as a couple other's whom I dearly hope to save, may be inevitable. But I hope to save as many as I can." He said vaguely._

" _Has my nephew really been the cause of such pain and suffering?" Ollivander entreated softly, barely audible. "Does he really deserve such a fate?" Ron met his piercing, blue eyes._

" _None of us do." He said, and left the shop and the shop-owner, alone in his chair by the fire, his head in his hands._

" _Can you kill me?"_ Henrick Ollivander hissed, his arms outstretched in a sign of surrender, his wand lying many yards away, useless. He was defenseless, and not fighting back. "Do you really think someone like you, a _pure, golden fighter of the Light_ , can murder a man in cold blood?" Henrick taunted again, his cold pale blue eyes glaring.

Ron's wand arm trembled. In his time in the war, and the past 17 years an auror, Ron could ruefully admit that some had died by his hand.

But they were in the midst of a duel, and they had never been defenseless, kneeling, waiting for the hit that would take their life. No, no it had always been fight or die, and though some of his spells had been violent, they had never truly been aimed with the intent to kill.

And Ron had never used an unforgiveable.

Harry had, yes. But he, Ron Weasley, had never done it. And frankly, he didn't know if he had it in him.

…

Lily was crouched in front of Astoria, fighting with her as she tried to shove a teacup into Astoria's hand. Lily could see the bright red mark blossoming on Astoria's pale skin from the slap she had barely delivered.

"Lily, I – No! I can't! How did you -? Why are you giving me this?" Astoria spluttered.

"It's a portkey. It will take you to Muriel's. Scorpius is waiting for you, you've got to go!" Lily said again, thrusting the tiny teacup at the woman. Astoria refused to take it.

"I can't! Not without Draco! And Theodore, I can't leave without him either!" Astoria countered, removing her wand from her robes pocket. Lily eyed the wand, unsure if Astoria was about to hex her or not.

Suddenly, she watched Astoria's head whip around, and Lily turned as well to see a man in the black robes of a Risen Follower barreling towards them.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Lily bellowed, and watched briefly as the man was lifted off his feet from the force of the spell, his wand flying out of his hand and into the fray.

Astoria gasped, crying out in shock at what Lily had done. "What did you do -!?" she began, raising her wand in anger.

Lily ignored Astoria's words, instead snatching the wand from her hands, and in its place shoved the tea cup. "You saved my life, Astoria Malfoy!" Lily barked, placing the wand on the ground beside her and curling her own hands around Astoria's, forcing her to clutch the tea cup.

"You could have killed me back there, at the house, but you didn't. You could have saved yourself a lot of pain, but you didn't. You saved my life, so now I'm saving yours!" Astoria could only stare at Lily, her pale face flushed with emotion

Suddenly, the hairs on Lily's arms and neck stood on end, and both women ceased their struggling. Their eyes widened in fear as a dark shadow loomed in their peripherals. Both women turned their heads, dropping the tea cup in shock as Lord Voldemort descended from the top of the high tower down to the ground below.

Lily froze, her mind reeling as she felt her heart thud and slow down, as if time itself were stuck in a bog.

" _Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!_ _"_

 _Lily rushed up the stairs, cradling baby Harry in her arms, and slammed the door of the nursery behind her. The front door opening, and yells below._

 _James, James, James, James, oh no, please, no._

 _Bright green light flashed from the crack at the bottom of the door, followed by a heavy thud._

 _James was dead. James: his laugh, his grin, his crinkly eyes behind his glasses when he smiled so big he couldn't contain the laugh that followed._

 _James, the foolish and arrogant boy who had teased her relentlessly, pulled her hair when they were eleven, laughing uproariously with his stupid gang of friends._

 _James, who carried that tiny golden snitch everywhere he went, strutting around the halls of Hogwarts like he owned the world._

 _But he did own the world, didn't he? He owned her world, even before she knew it._

 _James, why did you never give up on me?_

" _Lils, I can't help it. You are my world. I have nothing else if I don't have you…"_

 _The monster had finally come, and taken her James away with a laugh and a bright green flash. He would take Harry, too… She had to protect Harry – he was her last and only love of her life, because James was gone._

 _The door to the nursey was opening… Fear. Fear gripped Lily's heart in its cold, sharp hands…_

"LILY!"

Lily gasped as she was pulled from her thoughts, her lungs heaving as if resurfacing from deep under water. Her eyes were burning and flickering from the effects of the flashback.

"Lily! We've got to move!" Astoria was calling to her, shaking her. Lily met the woman's hazel eyes, and picked up Astoria's wand from the ground.

"Come on, lean on me!" Lily snapped, her mind refocused. She tucked both wands into her robes, dragging Astoria up with her. Astoria was limping and leaning heavily on Lily. It seemed her weak and fragile body was giving out on her again. They reached the edge of the outside wall of the fortress, tucking themselves against a small crevice. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.

A beam of purple light slammed into the wall above their heads. Astoria cowered, hunching in on herself as rubble fell. Lily whirled around to see a large and ugly woman, with a face reminiscent of a pug.

Lily drew her wand, striking the air with malice and a bright beam of red rushed towards Voldemort's follower. It hit her square in the jaw. Lily grinned triumphantly, and turned back towards Astoria.

"NOOOOOOO!" a terrible cry ripped through the air, and Lily jerked her head to see Harry, on his knees in front of Voldemort, who was now dueling Ginny. Lily's eyes widened as James was there, with two other wizards. They twirled and lashed out, curses and hexes being blocked and reciprocated between Voldemort and his four opponents.

Harry was still on the ground, unmoving. Lily's heart beat erratically as fear clutched her. She rose to her feet, prepared to run to Harry's side, when she was thrust back by a powerful blast of wind. A large tornado of smoke and darkness erupted from the ground between herself and her son, enveloping James and Ginny. Wind whipped Lily's hair and clothes, and Astoria cried out in fear behind her.

"I've got to go help!" Lily shouted above the wind. She hastily made to hand back Astoria the wand she had taken from her earlier, only to have Astoria shove it back towards her.

"No! No, it's yours now!"

"What? What do you mean? You need it!"

"No, Lily! It's the Elder Wand!" Astoria said tensely, her eyes boring into Lily's in an effort to make her understand.

"What do you mean it's mine?" Lily asked.

"You disarmed Theo, just now! He disarmed my brother, who stole Harry's wand at the ministry of magic. You have its allegiance!" she cried.

Lily was dumbstruck, finally taking a real look at the wand in her hand. The Elder Wand that Harry had showed them, the same wand that Dumbledore had carried. Lily nodded and made to rise, but a fierce tug on her robes pulled her jerkily back down to Astoria's crouched level.

"Wait! Here!" Astoria said, out of breath. "This is his!" Astoria was removing a locket from around her neck. Lily's eyes lit up with recognition as Astoria opened the locket to reveal none other than the Resurrection Stone. Astoria snapped the locket closed again, and draped it hastily around Lily's neck.

Lily nodded her head in thanks. Suddenly, the whirlwind behind her seemed to intensify, and what looked like lightning and flame was flashing from inside. Lily raised the Elder Wand, and ran towards the storm.

…

Ron looked down at the man before him, the echo of that anguished cry still in his mind. Suddenly, the blowing wind that tore at his robes from the terrible black storm, inside of which laid his sister and his best friend, ceased. Despite the battle continuing all around them, there was an eerie calm that had descended along with the disappearance of the storm.

Wand still trained on Ollivander, Ron looked up to see Harry. Voldemort stood over him, but Harry wasn't even trying to fight or defend himself. He only knelt there, and in his arms was…

Ron's blood ran cold.

Ollivander too, drew his gaze away from the couple hunched on the ground before the Dark Lord – the splash of bright red hair against Potter's jet-black, a strange contrast, and Ollivander's eyes returned to the dark blue of Ron Weasley's.

Fear. Fear like Henrick Ollivander had never felt laced his gut as he looked at the stony, pale face of the man before him, whose wand arm was no longer trembling.

And then surrender. He had to admit, to himself most of all – his life was not the life led by an innocent. Did he not deserve this, in some way? His mother gave her life for him, after all… had she not expected more from him then nothing but resentment and a thirst for vengeance?

Again, pale blue met deep ocean as a flash of bright green light filled his vision.

Henrick Ollivander knew no more.

…

Harry looked up into the red eyes of Lord Voldemort, who in turn met the bright green. Vindication was written on the Dark Lord's face, but on Harry's there was nothing – no fear, no pain, just a deep sadness. Suddenly, Voldemort paused, his wand lowering slightly as a look of fear crossed his eyes.

Harry blinked in confusion as Voldemort hesitated.

"HARRY!" Harry's head jerked to the one who had called his name. Her dark auburn hair was flying behind her, a wand outstretched in her hand as she rushed past her husband, who was limping heavily, struggling to reach his son.

 _No. No, no, no!_ Harry thought as he watched Lily Potter stop in front of Voldemort and take a deep breath. He knew what was coming. He knew exactly what she was about to do.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" She cried out.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Harry bellowed, his wand in his hand and pointing towards his own mother. The Elder Wand flew from Lily's grasp landing next to Harry as he knelt there, one arm still wrapped tightly around Ginny, his wand arm outstretched. He had been too late. His mother had once again sacrificed herself to save him.

Harry watched as the bright green light sped towards its intended, and Voldemort turned to face it. With wide eyes he fell backward, Voldemort's wand flying out of his hand, and he lay still and unseeing on the ground.

James, who had finally reached them, was the first to fall, crumpling in a heap. Lily's eyes were filled with tears as her own legs gave way. Harry watched in horror as screams of pain ripped from his parent's throats. Movement from beside Harry sparked more fear as the body of Voldemort seemed to convulse, a rattling breath like a silent scream tearing from the Dark Lord's lips.

And the small black crater where the killing curse had landed smoked, having missed its target by mere centimeters.

….

Draco left Harry and rushed back towards the fortress. Potter was right, he needed to find Astoria and get out of here. He had done his part, and this was no longer his fight.

"MALFOY!" came a bellow, and Draco dove to the ground to avoid the killing curse. He rolled to his feet only to see his very own brother-in-law.

"ANDREW!" Astoria's cry drew them both. Andrew's gaze flew to his little sister, her face pale and streaked with blood. She carried no wand, but the hate that was in her eyes was enough to kill him on the spot.

"CRUCIO!" Draco bellowed, taking advantage of the distraction. Andrew was hit with the curse, his body flying to the ground, where he squealed in agony. Draco took a moment before cancelling the curse, leaving him gasping on the ground.

Astoria rushed towards Draco, colliding with him. "Oh, thank God you're alive! You're still alive!" she cried, tears coursing down her cheeks. Draco embraced her tightly, holding her to him.

"Here! Take this, it's the portkey!" Astoria said, pulling slightly away to show Draco a shrunken teacup. Draco took it, tapping it with his wand to activate it.

"Where does it take us?" he asked.

"To Scorpius." She said, a smile on her lips. The teacup began to glow, and Astoria's eyes turned from joy to fear. Draco felt her push him, spinning him clockwise, one of her hands gripping the tea cup, the other holding him close to her in a tight embrace.

He turned with her, like two partners in a dance, and his eyes widened in shock as many things happened at once.

Astoria went limp in his arms, a bright green beam of light striking her back. Andrew glared as the tip of his wand smoked slightly from his killing curse, his eyes meeting Draco's, Andrews jaw dropping in shock. Then, Andrew fell, dead before he hit the ground as Theodore Nott bellowed with anguished rage, his own wand smoking with an echo of the deadly Avada Kedavra.

There was a tug felt at his navel, and in a swirl of robes and color, Draco was whisked away, one hand curled around the teacup, the other holding Astoria tightly as the portkey glowed bright blue.

….


End file.
